THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


^txV 


Frontispiece. 


OUR  SUMMER 


AT 


SUNNYBROOK, 


AND 


BY   MARY  NOEL    MEIGS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "FANNY  HEEBKKT,''  "COUSIN  BERTHA'S  STORIKS,"  Era 


NEW  YORK: 
ANSON    D.    F.    RANDOLPH, 

No.   683  BROADWAY. 
1862. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  In  the  year  18410,  by 
ANSON    D.    F.    RANDOLPH, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


TO 


THIS    LITTLE   BOOK 
18    DEDICATED    BY    THEIK 


(iii) 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAOB 

I.— NEW  FRIENDS 1 

II.— THE  FIRST  VISIT 10 

III.— THE    TOOL-HOUSE 31 

IV.— KITTY  COLEMAN 44 

V.— THE  HIGH  SWING..   63 

VI.— THE  BROKEN  WINDOW 71 

VII.— A  DAY  IN  THE   WOODS.... S9 

VIII.— SUNDAY  TALKS 125 

IX.— DINING  OUT 142 

X.— A  RAINY  DAY 154 

XI.— SIGHTS  IN  THE  CITY 173 

XII.— THE  GREY  KITTEN 205 

XIII.— AN  EVENING  AT  HOME 216 

XIV.— SCHOOL  AGAIN 282 

(5) 


SUMMER  AT  SUNNY  BROOK. 


i. 


1 F  you  were  riding  or  walking  through  the 
broad  street  of  Sunny  Brook,  a  pretty  vil- 
lage about  twenty  miles  from  New  York, 
you  might  perhaps  notice  a  pretty  white 
house,  with  green  blinds  and  a  piazza  in 
front,  covered  over  with  honey-suckles  and  sweet- 
briar.  If  you  were  to  ask  me  who  lived  there, 
I  should  tell  you  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Neland 
did,  with  their  two  children,  Arthur  and  Mary. 
The  house  stands  in  the  centre  of  a  fine  garden, 
in  which  are  all  sorts  of  vegetables,  fruit-trees, 
and  flower-beds ;  and  here  Arthur  and  his  sister 
often  worked  or  played  when  their  lessons  were 

(7) 


8  NEW   FRIENDS. 


over.  They  did  not  go  to  school,  because  the 
teacher  had  suddenly  left  them,  and  no  one  had 
been  found  to  take  her  place ;  and  during  the 
pleasant  summer  we  shall  write  about,  the  chil- 
dren were  glad  to  have  only  a  short  study-hour 
each  day  with  their  mother,  and  a  great  deal  of 
time  beside  for  their  own  amusement.  They 
spent  one  hour  in  the  morning,  and  another  in 
the  afternoon,  in  the  sitting-room,  where  they 
learned  and  recited  their  lessons ;  and  then  they 
were  up  and  away  to  the  pleasant  garden  walks, 
weeding  or  watering  the  flowers,  trundling  their 
hoops,  or  sometimes  nursing  and  conversing 
with  Mary's  large  family  of  dolls.  There  was 
Fanny  Fair  the  wax  baby,  and  Miss  Rose  the 
wooden  one,  and  two  kid  dolls  with  painted 
faces,  who  were  called  Julia  Short  and  Lucy 
Long.  Then  there  was  the  old  rag  baby,  who 
always  rode  in  the  wheel-barrow,  because  it  did 
not  hurt  her  if  she  tumbled  out ;  and  though  for 
a  long  time  while  Arthur  was  young  he  liked 
very  well  to  help  Mary  in  her  care  of  all  these 
babies,  he  now  began  to  think  himself  too  much 


NEW  FKIENDS.  9 


of  a  man  for  such  plays,  and  to  wish  his  sister 
had  been  a  boy,  that  she  might  have  joined  him 
in  more  boyish  sports.  After  the  teacher  left 
the  village,  several  boys  in  the  neighborhood 
had  been  sent  to  boarding-school,  and  so  Arthur 
had  seldom  any  companion  except  his  sister  and 
little  Kitty  Coleman,  who  lived  in  the  next 
house,  and  was  Mary's  particular  friend. 

"Mother,"  said  Arthur  one  day,  as  he  looked 
up  from  the  book  he  had  been  reading,  "  don't 
you  think  I  am  a  very  lonely  boy  ?  " 

"Why,  what  has  put  that  into  your  head, 
Arthur?  "  said  Mrs.  Neland,  laughing.  "  I  don't 
think  you  are  very  lonely." 

"Don't  you,  ma'am?"  said  Arthur,  "I  think 
I  am." 

"How  are  you  lonely ?"  asked  his  mother. 
"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  seldom  alone ;  you  have 
Mary  to  play  with  constantly,  or  you  sit  with 
me,  or  ride  out  with  father ;  and  if  none  of  these, 
there  is  merry  little  Frisk  to  run  races  with  ;  so 
I  cannot  think  you  are  very  lonely." 

"  But,  mother,  I  mean  that  I  have  no  boys  to 


10  NEW   FRIENDS. 


play  with — real  boys,  mother,  who  can  fly  a  kite, 
or  shoot  marbles,  or  spin  a  top ;  that  is  what  I 
mean  by  being  lonely.  Mary  plays  with  me,  I 
know,  but  she  likes  to  carry  her  dolls  about,  and 
she  makes  believe  sometimes  that  I  am  the 
nurse,  and  calls  me  Jane ;  and  I  don't  like  to  be 
called  Jane,  and  nurse  her  babies ;  and  she  can't 
shoot  a  marble,  though  I've  showed  her  how  to 
do  it,  over  and  over  again.  I  wish  Sammy  Green 
and  George  Eoland  hadn't  gone  away  to  school, 
and  I  do  think  I  am  very  lonely." 

"Well,  really,  Arthur,"  said  his  mother,  smil- 
ing, "  I  must  acknowledge  you  are  much  in 
want  of  a  playmate ;  but  how  is  it  that  you  can- 
not be  happy  alone  ?  I  have  known  you  to  play 
by  yourself  for  hours  together,  quite  contentedly." 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "but  then  I  was  only  a 
little  boy." 

"And  what  are  you  now,  pray ?  " 

"  Why,  I  am  ten  years  old  now"  said  the 
young  gentleman,  straightening  himself  with  a 
look  of  some  importance,  "  and  father  says  that  I 
am  growing  quite  tall.  I  didn't  mind  playing 


NEW  FRIENDS.  11 


with  Mary's  dolls  last  year,  but  I  do,  now  ;  and 
I  wish,  mother,  you  would  try  and  think  of  some- 
body for  me." 

"  Well,  Arthur,  I  will  try,"  said  Mrs.  Neland, 
smoothing  the  boy's  hair  kindly;  "  I  will  see  if  I 
cannot  help  you  out  of  this  difficulty,  and  I 
believe  I  can.  I  was  told  yesterday  that  Mr. 
Murray  is  coming  back  with  his  family  to  live 
here,  and  has  taken  the  new  house  just  down 
the  street.  Perhaps  you  remember  his  two  little 
boys." 

"Not  very  well,"  said  Arthur,  trying  to  think. 

"  Fred  and  Willie — but  probably  you  do  not 
recollect,  for  it  is  three  years  since  they  left  us." 

"  Yes — yes,  I  believe  I  do  remember,"  said 
Arthur.  "  I  remember  one  of  them  took  away 
my  cap  and  wouldn't  give  it  back,  and  I  cried 
about  it." 

"  I  am  not  sure  they  are  exactly  the  sort  of 
playmates  I  should  choose  for  you,"  said  his 
mother,  gravely.  "  So  we  must  not  be  too  cer- 
tain of  liking  them." 

"  Oh !   I    shall  be  sure  to  like  them,"  said 


12  NEW  FRIENDS. 


Arthur,  eagerly.  "  How  glad  I  am  they  are 
coming !  The  weather  is  getting  so  pleasant 
now,  that  we  can  play  out  of  doors  and  not 
plague  you  one  bit." 

"  I  am  never  plagued  with  you,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Neland.  "  I  rather  like  to  have  you  with 
me." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  know  that,  but  I  thought  may 
be  you  wouldn't  like  the  noise  of  so  many. 
When  will  Mr.  Murray  come,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  understand  he  will  be  here  next  week." 

"And  when  may  I  go  to  see  them?  " 

"  As  soon,  as  it  is  proper ;  in  a  few  days, 
probably." 

"  That  will  be  a  long  time,"  said  Arthur, 
thoughtfully. 

"Not  very  long,  and  I  hope  you  will  wait 
patiently  for  it.  But,  Arthur,  if  these  boys  are 
bad  boys,  unruly  or  disobedient,  I  shall  not  like 
you  to  play  with  them  very  often ;  we  must 
find  out  something  about  them." 

<rCertainly,  but  I  don't  suppose  they  are  such 
very  bad  boys,  mother." 


NEW  FRIENDS.  13 


"  Perhaps  not,  but  I  am  rather  afraid  of  it 
because  their  father  is  often  away  from  home, 
and  their  mother  not  well  enough  to  attend  to 
them." 

"  But  we  can't  help  knowing  them,  can  we?  " 
asked  Arthur ;  "  we  can't  help  seeing  them  often, 
if  they  are  so  near ;  and  besides,  mother,  if  they 
are  bad,  I  don't  think  I  need  be  so  too." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  his  mother,  "  only  the 
Bible  tells  us  that  "  evil  communications  corrupt 
good  manners,"  and  so  you  might  lose  your  good 
manners,  and  get  their  bad  habits,  by  being  with 
them  too  frequently.  However,  we  must  not 
judge  them  beforehand,  but  wait  and  see." 

"  And  I  must  go  and  tell  Mary  they  are  com- 
ing," said  Arthur,  jumping  from  his  chair  and 
running  to  the  door. 

"  First  put  away  your  slate  and  pencil,"  said 
his  mother ;  and  hastily  slipping  them  into  a 
drawer,  Arthur  flew  off  to  find  his  sister  and  tell 
her  the  good  news. 

Mary  did  not  seem  particularly  delighted  at 
the  prospect  of  seeing  the  young  Murrays.  Much 
2 


14  NEW  FRIENDS. 


to  Arthur's  surprise,  she  said  she  did  not  want 
two  rude  boys  running  through  the  house 
and  garden.  She  was  afraid  they  would  do 
mischief,  and  if  they  wanted  company,  it  was 
much  pleasanter  to  have  Kitty  Coleman.  who  was 
quiet  and  gentle.  But  Arthur  insisted  it  would 
be  grand  fun,  and  he  wished  the  week  was  over 
that  he  might  see  his  new  friends,  for  he  had  not 
really  enjoyed  himself  since  the  school  broke  up, 
and  all  the  boys  left  the  village. 

In  a  very  few  days  Arthur  was  enchanted  to 
see  the  windows  of  Mr.  Murray's  house  thrown 
open,  and  soon  after,  the  arrival  of  a  great  many 
loads  of  furniture,  the  unpacking  of  which  he 
watched  with  great  eagerness.  After  this  he  ran 
to  the  garden  gate  every  time  a  carriage  passed 
the  door,  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  family ;  but  a 
whole  week  elapsed  before  they  came,  and 
Arthur  grew  very  impatient  at  the  delay.  At 
last,  to  his  great  joy  the  happy  day  arrived,  and 
the  long-expected  carriage  drove  down  the 
street,  covered  with  trunks  and  baggage.  Arthur 
and  Mary  had  just  finished  their  morning  study- 


NEW  FRIENDS.  15 


hour  in  the  sitting-room,  and  they  ran  eagerly 
to  the  window  to  see  their  new  neighbors. 

"That  is  Mr.  Murray,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mary, 
as  a  tall  gentleman  stepped  from  the  carriage. 

"And  there  are  Fred  and  William,"  cried 
Arthur,  clapping  his  hands,  as,  with  a  hop,  skip 
and  jump,  two  boys  about  his  own  age  sprang 
out  and  ran  up  the  steps.  "  Now  I  am  quite 
happy.  Don't  you  feel  happy,  Mary  ?  " 

Mary  did  not  answer  immediately,  for  she  was 
looking  at  Mrs.  Murray,  who  was  just  going  into 
the  house,  but  at  last  she  said  she  did  not  feel 
particularly  happy. 

"  That  is  because  you  are  a  girl,"  said  Arthur. 

"That  does  not  make  any  difference,"  said 
Mary.  "  I  am  sure  I  can  be  happy  if  I  am  a 
girl." 

"  Well,  I  mean,"  said  Arthur,  "  you  don't  feel 
happy  to  see  the  boys,  because  you  don't  care  to 
play  with  them." 

"No,"  said  Mary,  "I  don't  like  boys  very 
much,  except  you." 

"Why?  "asked  Arthur. 


16  NEW  FRIENDS. 


"Because,  last  summer  when  I  went  with. 
Aunt  Laura  to  the  sea-side,  there  were  some 
boys  in  the  same  house,  who  were  always 
teasing  the  other  children  in  the  hotel,  and 
tormenting  the  dogs,  and  screaming  and  whist- 
ling ;  and  Aunt  Laura  said  they  were  very 
disagreeable,  and  I've  never  liked  boys  since." 

"  But  I  know  you  will  like  Frederick  and 
William  Murray,"  said  Arthur;  "I  am  quite  sure 
of  that." 

"  Not  as  well  as  I  do  Kitty  Coleman,"  said 
Mary. 

"  Oh  !  Kitty  loves  doll  babies,"  said  Arthur, 
contemptuously ;  "that  is  the  reason.  I  hate  the 
very  sight  of  dolls;  and  now,  thank  fortune,  I've 
done  with  them  forever." 

"You  don't  hate  my  wax  baby,  do  you?" 
asked  Mary,  looking  rather  grave. 

"  Yes,  I  hate  them  all,  every  one — Fanny  Fair, 
and  Miss  Rose,  and  all;  but  I  love  tops  and 
marbles  and  kites,  and  I  must  run  and  tell 
mother  that  Mr.  Murray  has  come,  and  ask  her 
to  take  me  there  this  afternoon." 


NEW  FRIENDS.  17 

When  Arthur  found  his  mother,  she  was  very 
busy,  and  to  his  great  disappointment  she  told 
him  it  would  not  be  proper  to  call  upon  their 
neighbors  so  soon.  "We  must  let  them  get 
settled  a  little,"  said  she.  "  They  are  scarcely  at 
home  yet,  and  cannot  wish  to  see  company 
immediately." 

"  It  will  be  so  long  to  wait,"  said  Arthur, 
looking  vexed,  and  speaking  very  fretfully. 

"  You  must  be  patient,"  said  his  mother.  "  I 
am  the  best  judge  of  the  matter.  I  would  advise 
you  to  make  yourself  contented  with  your  sister 
now,  until  I  shall  see  fit  to  go." 

"  May  I  go  too  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"No,"  said  Arthur,  quickly,  "you  don't  like 
boys,  and  there  is  no  use  of  your  going  at  all — 
is  there,  mother  ?  " 

"Mary  shall  go,  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Neland, 
"  even  if  she  does  not  like  boys  ;  it  would  be 
very  unkind  to  leave  her  at  home — don't  you 
think  so?" 

"  Why,  there  is  nobody  for  Tier  to  see,"  said 
Arthur. 

2* 


18  NEW    FRIENDS. 


"  No  matter,  she  shall  go  if  she  wishes  it." 

"But  when?"  asked  Arthur;  "  can't  you  say 
what  day  you  will  take  us  ?  I  want  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  the  boys  so  much." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "I  will  go  on 
Saturday  afternoon." 

"Not  till  Saturday?" 

"  Not  a  moment  sooner." 

"  Oh,  dear !  that  is  a  long  time  to  wait." 

"  If  you  are  patient,  it  will  not  seem  very 
long,"  said  his  mother.  "  So  now  go  and  make 
yourself  as  happy  as  you  can  till  Saturday 
comes." 


IL 

first  Bisii. 


ATUKDAY  came  at  last,  though  Arthur 
had  many  fits  of  impatience  during  the 
week,  particularly  when  he  saw  the  two 
lads  running  about  the  door,  and  could 
not  join  them.  The  afternoon  lessons 
were  no  sooner  over,  than  he  reminded  his  mother 
of  her  promise  ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  put  on 
his  best  suit  of  clothes  and  made  himself  neat, 
and  Mary  had  dressed  in  her  new  frock  and 
straw  bonnet,  Mrs.  Neland  was  ready,  and  they 
set  out.  Mr.  Murray's  house  was  only  a  short 
distance  below,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  ; 
so  they  were  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and  found 
Mrs.  Murray  seated  in  the  parlor  with  some 
other  visitors.  Arthur  looked  round  for  the 
two  boys,  but  saw  nothing  of  them,  except  a 

(19) 


20  THE   FIKST   VISIT. 


hat  lying  upon  one  of  the  chairs,  with  a  whip 
beside  it.  Mrs.  Murray  said  they  had  only  gone 
down  the  street,  and  would  be  back  presently  ; 
and  in  about  ten  minutes,  back  they  came. 

But  their  voices  were  heard  long  before  the 
boys  themselves  were  seen.  In  at  the  front  gate 
they  ran,  quarrelling  and  scolding,  thumping  up 
the  steps  like  two  young  colts,  and  into  the  par- 
lor, exclaiming — "  Mother,  make  Fred  give  me 
my  hat.  He  won't  give  it  to  me ;  won't  you 
make  Fred  give  me  my  hat  ?"  while  at  the  same 
time  master  Fred  was  bawling, — 

"  Ma,  it  isn't  his  hat,  it's  mine.  I  know  it  is 
mine.  Won't  you  make  him  stop  kicking  me  ?" 

"Hush,  hush!"  said  Mrs.  Murray.  "For 
shame,  children.  Be  quiet,  both  of  you." 

"  I  want  my  hat,"  cried  "William,  regardless  of 
his  mother's  injunctions  to  be  quiet. 

"  Here  is  a  hat,  ma'am,"  said  Mary  Neland, 
taking  the  one  from  the  chair  and  carrying  it 
towards  Mrs.  Murray. 

"  There,  William,  is  your  hat,  now,"  said  his 
mother;  "  so  don't  make  any  more  noise,  for  pity 'a 


THE   FIRST  VISIT.  21 


sake,  or  my  poor  head  will  go  wild.  I  am  quite 
ashamed  of  you  both.  Go  and  thank  little  Mary 
for  bringing  it  to  you." 

But  master  Will  turned  sulkily  away,  and, 
with  a  look  of  defiance  at  his  brother,  they  both 
walked  out  of  the  parlor. 

"  Did  I  ever  see  such  boys !"  said  Mrs.  Murray. 
"Why,  they  did  not  speak  to  Arthur  Neland  at 
all.  "Boys!  boys!"  she  called  out, — "Fred- 
erick— William — come  back,  this  moment. " 

The  young  gentlemen,  however,  either  did 
not  hear,  or  did  not  choose  to  obey,  so  Mrs. 
Murray  desired  Arthur  to  go  and  look  for  them. 
He  did  so,  with  his  mother's  permission,  but  it 
must  be  confessed  his  expected  pleasure  was 
somewhat  damped  by  the  rude  behavior  of  the 
two  boys,  and  he  began  to  think,  that  after  all 
he  might  not  like  them  as  well  as  he  had  im- 
agined he  should. 

Arthur  went  out  on  the  piazza  at  the  back 
of  the  house,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  long 
flight  of  steps  which  led  down  into  the  gar- 
den he  found  the  boys,  who,  having  each 


22  THE   FIRST  VISIT. 


gotten  possession  of  his  own  hat  again,  had  by 
this  time  become  quiet,  and  were  cutting  sticks 
for  their  amusement,  each  being  the  owner  of  a 
good  knife.  Frederick  was  rather  older  than 
Arthur,  and  William  a  year  younger,  and  they 
looked  up  at  him,  as  he  stood  at  the  top  of  the 
steps,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  Mrs.  Murray  sent  me  to  look  for  you,"  said 
Arthur,  going  down  and  seating  himself  beside 
them. 

"  What  is  your  name?"  asked  Frederick, 
bluntly. 

"Arthur  Neland." 

"I  don't  know  where  you  live." 

"  Why,  I  live  just  across  the  street,  in  the 
white  house  with  a  green  gate  in  front,"  replied 
Arthur. 

The  boys  did  not  reply ;  they  only  looked  at 
each  other  and  smiled. 

"  That's  a  good  knife  you  have  got,"  said  Ar- 
thur, determined  to  be  friendly. 

"  I  guess  it  is,"  said  Fred,  cutting  more  vigor- 
ously to  show  its  excellence. 


THE    FIRST  VISIT.  23 


"  Mine  is  the  best,"  said  Will ;  "  see  what  a 
fine  big  blade !" 

"  Mine  is  every  bit  as  good,"  growled  Fred. 

"  I  have  one,"  said  Arthur,  pulling  it  from  his 
pocket,  "but  it  has  only  two  blades." 

"  Ours  have  three,"  said  Will ;  "  we  bought 
them  in  New  York.  You  can't  get  good  knives 
in  this  place." 

"  Mine  came  from  New  York,  too,"  said  Ar- 
thur. "  My  father  bought  it  for  me.  He  often 
brings  me  things  from  the  city.  Can  you  play 
marbles  ?" 

"Yes/'  said  both  the  boys,  laughing  at  such  a 
question. 

"  So  can  I,"  said  Arthur,  "  but  sister  cannot." 

"  Girls  can't  play  marbles,"  said  Fred. 

"Iguess  not,"  said  Arthur,  smiling  good-humor- 
edly,  "  for  I've  tried  to  teach  Mary  over  and  over 
again.  See  what  a  nice  lot  I  have!"  And  he 
pulled  a  handful  of  colored  marbles  from  his 
pocket.  "Let  us  play  a  game.  Shall  we ?" 

"I  had  a  good  lot,  too,"  said  Fred,  "but 
Will  got  'em  all  away  from  me." 


24  THE   FIRST   VISIT. 


"  I  didn't,"  cried  Will,  indignantly.  "  You 
gave  me  two,  and  you  lost  all  the  others." 

"  I'll  begin  with  my  five,  and  win  some,"  said 
Fred,  making  a  ring  on  the  gravel  walk  as  he 
spoke ;  and  William  producing  several  more,  the 
game  began.  Arthur  certainly  felt  very  well 
satisfied  to  find  himself  thus  engaged,  and  much 
more  important  than  when  playing  with  his  lit- 
tle sister  at  home.  Rapid  were  the  strokes,  and 
merry  the  "click  click"  of  the  pretty  balls,  as 
they  knocked  each  other  out  of  the  ring ;  but 
Arthur  soon  found  the  young  Hurrays  with 
their  small  stock  of  marbles,  more  than  a  match 
for  him  with  his  "  nice  lot,"  and  presently  his  own 
number  was  reduced  to  six,  and  he  saw  the  two 
boys  had  swept  the  rest  into  their  pockets  as 
fairly  won. 

Arthur,  however,  was  a  manly  boy,  as  well  as 
a  good-tempered  one,  and  though  he  felt  sorry 
to  part  with  his  marbles,  for  he  had  kept  them 
a  long  while,  yet  he  bore  their  loss  with  good 
humor, — and  Fred  and  Will  being  tired  of  the 
game,  Arthur  went  with  them  down  the  long 


THE   FIRST   VISIT.  25 


gravel  walk,  to  look  at  a  great  hole  they  had 
been  digging  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  It  was 
in  the  middle  of  a  nice  plot  of  ground  where 
the  two  boys  had  been  at  work ;  they  had  already 
dug  a  hole  two  feet  deep,  and  their  little  spades 
were  lying  by  it,  ready  to  be  taken  up  at  any 
moment, — for  Fred  and  Will  Murray  never  put 
away  anything  when  they  had  done  with  it,  nor 
were  they  at  all  particular  what  mischief  they 
were  doing,  if  they  worked  without  leave.  Some 
pretty  flowers  which  they  had  uprooted,  lay 
withering  on  the  ground,  and  Arthur  took  them 
up,  exclaiming, — 

"Dear  me!  what  a  pity!  these  beautiful  bells 
are  almost  dead." 

"Poh,"  said  Frederick.  "Who  cares  for  a  few 
flowers?" 

"  We  dug  'em  up  this  morning,"  said  William, 
"  because  they  were  in  the  way  of  our  well.  We 
are  going  to  make  a  well  when  we  have  dug  the 
hole  deeper." 

"  They  are  just  like  the  bells  in  our  garden  at 
home,"  said  Arthur.  "  Mary  and  I  have  a  garden 
8 


26  THE   FIRST   VISIT. 


together,   and  we  plant  all  kinds  of  flowers. 
Have  you  one  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Frederick ;  "  what  do  we  want  with 
a  garden,  when  we  can  do  as  we  please  in  this 
big  one?" 

"We  can  dig  holes  anywhere  we  like,"  said 
"Will,  in  a  boasting  tone,  "and  pull  up  any  of 
the  flowers  we  have  a  mind  to." 

"  What  will  your  mother  say?"  asked  Arthur, 
who  was  never  allowed  to  disfigure  their  own 
garden,  and  had  an  especial  dread  of  displeasing 
his  mother.  "Does  she  know  you  have  dug  up 
these?" 

"  We  don't  know,  and  we  don't  care,  either," 
said  Fred  ;  "  we  never  ask  anybody  if  we  want 
to  do  a  thing.  It's  so  babyish !" 

"  Don't  you?"  asked  Arthur  in  surprise. 

"No,  indeed,  not  we,"  said  Fred,  laughing,  as 
he  seized  one  of  the  spades  and  jumped  into  the 
hole.  "  Stand  out  of  the  way  there,  or  you'll 
get  this  dirt  on  you." 

Arthur  was  so  much  astonished  at  the  idea  of 
any  child  doing  "  exactly  as  he  pleased,"  or  wil- 


THE   FIRST   VISIT.  27 


fully  destroying  a  thing  without  permission,  be- 
cause he  chose  to,  that  he  stood  quite  still  a 
moment  in  silence,  and  was  recalled  to  his  recol- 
lection by  the  voice  of  Will  Murray,  who  was 
now  disputing  with  his  brother  about  a  place  to 
dig. 

"  It's  my  turn  to  get  in  the  hole,"  he  cried ; 
"get  out,  this  minute." 

"Isha'n't,"said  Fred. 

"Yes,  you  shall." 

"  No,  I  won't." 

"Then  I'll  go  and  tell  father." 

"  Well,  go,"  said  Frederick,  "  I  don't  care." 

Will  ran  off  a  few  yards,  but  recollecting, 
probably,  that  his  father  was  not  at  home,  came 
back  again  crying  out, — 

"  Now,  Fred,  its  my  turn,  so  come  out."  But 
Frederick  continued  to  use  his  spade  as  if  he 
did  not  hear.  Will  at  this  lost  his  temper  com- 
pletely: he  cried  and  scolded,  grew  very  red 
in  the  face,  and  at  length,  seizing  his  own  little 
spade,  dashed  a  quantity  of  the  loose  earth  into 
his  brother's  face,  and  then  ran  with  all  his 


28  THE  FIRST  VISIT. 


might  toward  the  Louse.  Of  course  Fred  also 
was  violently  angry.  He  jumped  out  of  the 
hole  in  great  haste,  and  wiping  his  eyes,  which, 
being  full  of  dirt,  were  consequently  very  pain- 
ful, ran  after  Will  in  high  chase,  leaving  Arthur 
Neland  alone,  who  was  almost  stupefied  with 
amazement  at  such  rude  behavior. 

But  Arthur  did  not  stand  alone  more  than  a 
minute,  for  presently  he  heard  a  terrible  crying, 
and  knew  that  Fred  had  overtaken  his  little 
brother,  though  he  could  not  see  them,  and  was 
probably  in  the  act  of  punishing  master  Will 
for  his  misconduct,  while  at  the  same  time  the 
gentle  voice  of  his  own  little  sister  called  to  him 
from  the  piazza,  and  told  him  their  mother  was 
waiting.  Arthur  willingly  obeyed  the  summons, 
not  particularly  sorry,  as  I  should  imagine,  to 
exchange  such  quarrelsome  company  for  that 
of  a  sweet-tempered  little  girl,  though  she  did 
love  dolls,  and  could  not  -play  at  marbles. 

At  tea,  that  night,  Arthur's  father  asked  him 
how  he  liked  his  new  friends. 

"  Pretty  well,  sir,"  replied  Arthur. 


THE   FIRST   VISIT.  29 


"  Only  « pretty  well,'  hey !"  said  Mr.  Neland. 
"  "Well,  my  boy,  I  am  glad  you  are  honest 
enough  to  say  exactly  how  far  you  like  them." 

Arthur  looked  up  as  if  he  did  not  entirely 
understand  his  father. 

"Because,"  continued  Mr.  Neland,  "you  were 
so  sure  of  liking  them,  that  I  feared  the  pleasure 
of  making  new  acquaintances  would  render  you 
blind  to  their  faults." 

"Do  you  think  they  have  faults,  Arthur?" 
asked  his  mother. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Arthur,  promptly. 

"  Then  we  shall  not  ask  you  what  their  faults 
are,"  said  Mr.  Neland,  "  since  it  is  better  not  to 
speak  of  the  misdeeds  of  our  neighbors  if  we 
can  help  it ;  but  we  shall  trust,  my  son,  to  your 
own  good  sense,  and  your  own  knowledge  of 
right  and  wrong,  to  avoid  them.  Can  we  trust 
you?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Arthur,  rather  proudly. 

"Take  care,"  said  his  mother ;   "'Evil  com- 
munications corrupt  good  manners,'  you  know, 
and  if  you  are  not  careful  and  watchful"  you 
3* 


30  THE  FIRST  VISIT. 


are  as  liable  to  get  into  bad  habits  as  any  one 
else." 

"Well,  I  shall  try"  said  Arthur,  in  a  more 
humble  tone. 

"That  is  right,"  replied  Mrs.  Neland,  "since 
if  you  try,  you  may  with  God's  help  succeed  ; 
and,  indeed,  I  think  you  will  do  so." 


III. 

f  (re 


was  more  than  a  week  before  Arthur  saw 
the  young  Murrays  again.  Indeed,  he  did 
not  feel  quite  as  anxious  about  it  as  he  had 
done  at  first,  since  they  were  not  exactly 
the  kind  of  boys  he  had  expected  to  find 
them.  But  when  he  met  them  running  across 
the  road  one  morning,  and  they  told  him  they 
were  just  coming  to  pay  him  a  visit,  and  he 
observed  that  Frederick  carried  in  his  hand  a 
new  top,  he  joyfully  welcomed  them,  and,  open- 
ing the  garden  gate,  the  three  boys  went  together 
into  the  house,  because  Mrs.  Neland,  who  was 
standing  at  the  parlor  window,  called  to  them. 

When  Mrs.  Neland  had  inquired  about  Mrs. 
Murray,  she  told  Arthur  to  go  with  Frederick 
and  William  into  the  garden,  and  play  in  the 

(31) 


32  THE   TOOL-HOUSE. 


walk  at  the  end  of  it,  but  to  be  careful  not  to 
touch  the  strawberry  beds,  or  trample  on  the 
young  vegetables.  Arthur  promised,  and  they 
ran  off  in  high  glee  ;  for  by  this  time  he  had  al- 
most forgotten  the  events  of  his  visit  at  Mr. 
Murray's,  and  was  quite  charmed  at  finding  him- 
self once  more  with  the  two  boys  ;  and  when 
they  passed  the  old  root-house,  and  saw  the 
wheel-barrow  in  which  the  kid  dolls  were 
comfortably  seated,  Arthur  seized  it  in  a  thought- 
less manner,  and,  hastily  tilting  the  poor  babies 
upon  a  heap  of  rubbish,  ran  laughingly  away, 
quite  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  had  been  wheel- 
ing them  about  the  garden  with  his  little  sister, 
an  hour  before. 

When  they  reached  the  long  walk,  Frederick 
and  William  stood  a  few  moments  with  their 
hands  in  their  pockets,  as  if  at  a  loss  what  to  do, 
while  Arthur  drew  out  a  nice  piece  of  string, 
and  asked  William  to  play  horse  with  him ;  and 
William  said  he  would,  if  Arthur  would  be  the 
horse  and  let  him  drive. 

Now  Arthur  wanted  to  drive  himself,  but  he 


THE   TOOL-HOUSE.  83 


knew  it  was  polite  to  do  as  his  young  visitor 
wished,  and  so  he  put  the  string  around  his  own 
body,  and  giving  William  the  ends,  they  scam- 
pered off.  When  they  had  run  up  and  down 
the  long  walk  half  a  dozen  times,  and  Arthur 
had  reared,  and  kicked,  and  capered,  like  a  very 
fiery  animal,  he  stopped  and  said,  "  Now  it  is 
my  turn  to  drive." 

"  I  don't  want  to  play  horse  any  longer,"  said 
William,  throwing  down  the  string;  "let  us  do 
something  else." 

"  Just  let  me  drive  you  up  and  down  o?ice," 
said  Arthur,  coaxingly  ;  "  do,  just  once." 

"No,"  replied  William,  "  I  don't  want  to.  I 
want  to  get  the  wheel -barrow  and  carry  stones 
in  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Arthur,  good-naturedly  yielding 
his  own  wishes  to  oblige  his  companion,  "but 
there  are  not  many  stones  in  our  garden  except 
by  the  root-house,  and  you  know  we  can't  go 
there." 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  Frederick,  who,  while 
the  other  boys  were  running,  had  been  cutting 


34  THE  TOOL-HOUSE. 


the  limbs  from  a  young  pear-tree  with  his  pen- 
knife ;  "  why  can't  we  go  there  ?" 

"Because,"  said  Arthur,  "mother "told  us  to 
play  here." 

"  She  will  never  know  it,"  said  Frederick. 
"  She  can't  see  you,  and  we  won't  tell.  Come, 
get  us  the  wheel-barrow  and  some  stones  to  build 
a  wall  across  this  path." 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  indeed,"  said  Arthur,  earnestly ; 
"  I  would  in  a  minute,  if  I  could,  but  you  know 
what  mother  said  when  we  came  out." 

"  /didn't  hear  her,"  said  Frederick,  in  a  sullen 
tone,  "  and  I'm  sure  there  is  no  harm  in  having 
a  few  stones.  It's  very  stupid  here,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  play  with,  and  if  you  don't  get  'em, 
Will  and  I  shall  go  directly  home." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  was  Arthur's  reply,  "  and 
I'm  very  sorry  about  it,  very,  only  you  know  I 
can't  help  it !  Where's  your  top  ?  can't  we 
spin  it  ?" 

"  It  is  a  new  top,"  said  Frederick,  drawing  it 
from  his  pocket,  and  looking  a  little  more 
pleased. 


THE   TOOL-HOUSE.  35 


"  I  think  it  is  a  grand  one,"  said  Arthur,  "  and 
I  have  a  new  one,  too,  but  mine  is  a  humming- 
top  ;  my  uncle  sent  it  to  me,  and  it  hums  like  a 
whole  swarm  of  bees.  I'll  go  and  get  it — shall 
I  ?  and  then  I  can  ask  if  we  may  play  by  the 
root-house  with  the  wheel-barrow." 

Pleased  with  the  idea  of  giving  pleasure  to 
others,  for  Arthur  Neland  was  not  a  selfish  boy, 
he  ran  off,  and  soon  came  back  with  his  new  red 
top.  It  would  not  spin  well  on  the  gravel  walk, 
he  said,  and  so  his  mother  had  given  him  per- 
mission to  go  to  an  old  building  in  another  cor- 
ner of  the  garden,  where  the  garden  tools  were 
usually,  kept  and  there  they  could  play  very 
nicely. 

To  this  the  boys  agreed,  and  master  Will, 
taking  possession  of  Arthur's  top,  while  Fred 
retained  his  own,  they  went  round  through  a 
different  path,  and  so  reached  the  old  tool-house. 
And  here  the  young  Hurrays  looked  about  with 
infinite  satisfaction,  for  there  seemed  no  lack  of 
just  such  playthings  as  they  most  fancied. 
Eakes,  hoes,  shovels,  a  basket  of  rough  blocks, 


>6  THE   TOOL  HOUSE. 


a  chisel  and  hammer,  with  some  boards  and 
other  lumber  which  had  been  stored  away  in 
this  shed  till  they  might  be  wanted,  were  a  per- 
fect treasure ;  and  what  boy  would  not  have  ex- 
changed a  few  painted  toys  for  such  a  medley  ? 
Frederick  crammed  his  own  top  into  his  pocket 
immediately,  William  threw  down  Arthur's,  and 
each  seizing  the  tool  which  came  first,  began 
knocking  and  pounding  about,  till  it  seemed 
likely  they  would  bring  the  old  building  down 
upon  their  heads. 

To  Arthur,  however,  all  this  was  most  famil- 
iar, since  he  and  Mary  frequently  amused  them- 
selves among  the  garden  tools  in  bad  weather, 
or  when  they  were  tired  with  running  through 
the  walks ;  and  Arthur  thought  it  would  be  much 
more  pleasant  to  spin  the  tops  now,  than  to  do 
anything  else.  He  had  spun  his  own  so  often, 
that  he  had  grown  a  little  tired  of  it,  and  so  he 
asked  Frederick  to  lend  him  his,  not  doubting 
that  Fred  would  do  so. 

But  Frederick,  like  a  great  many  other  selfish 
people,  though  he  was  not  using  the  toy,  refused, 


THE  TOOL-HOUSE.  37 


and  went  on  with  his  hammering,  while  Arthur, 
after  a  little  coaxing  which  proved  quite  useless, 
as  Fred  persisted  in  keeping  his  top,  was  forced 
to  take  up  something  else.  He  had  been  trying 
to  make  a  box  for  his  sister,  the  day  before,  and 
his  father  had  given  him  a  nice  piece  of  board 
for  that  purpose,  and  told  him  how  to  shape  it ; 
and  as  the  boys  would  not  play  with  him,  Ar- 
thur thought  he  might  as  well  go  on  with  his 
work,  particularly  as  Mary  had  told  him  she 
was  in  great  want  of  the  box  to  keep  her  new 
set  of  cups  and  saucers  in.  So  Arthur  got  out 
his  board  and  fastened  it  on  the  work-bench, 
and,  taking  a  sharp  plane  from  a  nail  behind  the 
door,  set  about  his  task.  The  moment  he  did 
so,  both  Fred  and  William  stopped. 

"  Here,"  said  Frederick,  throwing  down  the 
hammer,  ulet  me  do  that,  won't  you  ?  I'm  tired 
of  this." 

"  No,"  said  "William,  "  let  me  do  it,  won't 
you?" 

But  Arthur,  though  a  good-natured  boy,  did  not 
feel  inclined  to  be  thus  imposed  on,  and  without 


38  THE   TOOL-HOUSE. 


hesitation  refused  to  relinquish  his  favorite  tool 
to  either  of  them. 

"  I  could  do  it  a  great  deal  better  than  you, 
because  I  know  how,  and  I  am  stronger,"  said 
Frederick.  "  Come,  I'll  give  it  to  you  again  in 
a  minute." 

"Don't  give  it  to  Fred — give  it  to  me,"  said 
William,  from  the  other  side. 

Still  Arthur  shook  his  head,  and  went  on  with 
his  work. 

"I  think  you  might,"  said  Frederick.  "I'll 
go  straight  home,  if  you  don't." 

"  But  you  would  not  lend  me  your  top  when 
I  asked  you  for  it,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  so  you 
ought  not  to  expect  me  to  give  up  my  nice 
plane." 

"Oh!  I'll  lend  it  to  you  now  though,"  said 
Fred,  eagerly  drawing  it  from  his  pocket,  "  and 
it's  a  first  rate  top  to  spin.  "  Come,  won't  you 
try  it  ?  and  here  is  the  string,  too." 

" I  don't  care  much  about  it  now"  said  Ar- 
thur, resolved  to  make  a  great  favor  of  giving 
up  the  plane.  "  Besides,  I  want  to  finish  Mary's 


THE   TOOL-HOUSE. 


box  to-morrow,  and  so  I  must  work  at  it  to- 
day." 

"  I'll  make  you  an  excellent  one,  if  you  like," 
said  Frederick.  "  I'm  a  capital  hand  at  making 
boxes." 

"Oh,  what  a  story!"  exclaimed  William; 
"  ain't  you  ashamed  ?  you  never  made  a  box  in 
your  life." 

"  I  did !  "  cried  Frederick,  angrily ;  "  what  do 
you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  This  is  a  very  particular  box,"  said  Arthur, 
quietly,  "  and  my  father  will  not  like  to  have  it 
spoiled." 

"  I  won't  spoil  it,"  said  Fred.  "  I'll  do  it  just 
right.  Come !  "  and  he  attempted  to  take  the 
plane  from  Arthur  as  he  spoke.  "I'll  go 
straight  home,  if  you  don't." 

"  Well,  I'll  lend  it  to  you  for  five  minutes,  and 
no  longer,"  said  Arthur.  Eemember,  only  five 
minutes,  while  I  spin  the  top  once.  Mary  won't 
like  the  box,  unless  I  do  it  all  myself." 

"  Poh !  she'll  never  know  it,"  said  Fred.  "  How 
should  she,  if  you  don't  tell  her?  This  is  a 


40  THE   TOOL-HOUSE. 


grand  plane :  just  see  how  well  I  can  do  it — 
much  better  than  you.  I  mean  to  plane  all  the 
way  to  the  end  of  the  board." 

"  No,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  shall  want  it  myself* 
presently." 

"  You'll  lend  it  to  me  next,  won't  you  ?  "  ask- 
ed William ;  "  /  want  to  do  a  little,  too." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Arthur,  in  rather  an 
important  tone ;  "  I'll  see  about  it."  He  took  up 
Frederick's  top  as  he  spoke,  and  tried  to  spin  it, 
but  either  he  was  not  very  expert,  or  it  was  out 
of  order,  for  the  top  would  not  spin. 

"I  can't  think  what  is  the  matter  with  it," 
said  Frederick,  as  he  continued  to  amuse  himself 
at  Arthur's  work-bench.  "I  guess  you  don't 
hold  it  right.  Will, — you  show  him  how." 

"Show  him  yourself,"  said  William.  "You've 
had  that  plane  long  enough,  now,  and  I  want  to 
try.  It's  my  turn  now,  isn't  it,  Arthur?" 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "you  may  try  it  for  a 
minute." 

"But  I  haven't  done  yet,  I  tell  you,"  cried 
Frederick.  "  I'm  going  to  finish  all  this  board ; 


THE  TOOL-HOUSE.  41 


so  go  away,"  and  he  pushed  William  from  him, 
who  was  attempting  to  take  possession  of  the 
plane,  with  such  violence,  that  the  boy  fell 
against  a  few  loose  boards,  and,  whether  he  was 
hurt  or  not,  began  to  cry  as  loudly  as  he  could. 

Poor  Arthur  was  so  unused  to  noisy  broils, 
or  indeed  to  quarrelling  of  any  sort,  that  he  felt 
half  frightened ;  and  forgetting  his  own  rights, 
or  trying  to  regain  the  disputed  tool  himself,  he 
threw  down  the  top,  and  tried  to  comfort  William 
for  his  brother's  unkindness. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  good-natured  little 
fellow.  "  You  and  I  can  play  at  see-saw — shall 
we  ?  Here  is  a  nice  long  board,  and  we  may 
put  it  over  this  wooden  horse,  and  get  -a  fine 
ride.  Mary  and  I  do  it  sometimes,  but  not  very 
often,  because  mother  is  afraid  Mary  may  be 
hurt;  but  she  won't  object  to  my  riding  with 
you.  Come — help  me."  And  Will,  wiping  his 
eyes,  thougl  i  still  looking  angrily  at  his  brother, 
and  promising  to  "tell  mamma"  the  moment 
they  reached  home,  at  last  consented.  The 
board  was  properly  arranged,  the  boys  mounted 
4* 


42  THE  TOOL-HOUSE. 


each  end,  and  peace  was  restored  for  a  short 
time,  during  which  Frederick  continued  to  plane 
the  wood  for  the  box ;  and  William  and  Arthur 
played  at  see-saw. 

But  by  and  by,  Fred  grew  tired  of  his  em- 
ployment. His  arms  ached,  and  the  perspiration 
stood  upon  his  forehead;  he  thought  he  had 
done  enough,  he  said,  and  now  William  could 
have  the  plane  and  let  him  ride :  but  William 
would  by  no  means  consent  to  this.  Then  Fred 
insisted  that  he  should,  and  at  last  undertook  to 
displace  him  by  force,  which  was  easily  accom- 
plished, as  Will  was  not  half  so  strong  as  his 
brother.  Frederick  dragged  him  from  his  seat, 
and  got  upon  the  board  himself ;  but  Arthur, 
Avho  was  really  angry  at  such  selfishness,  and 
seemed  to  have  caught  a  little  of  his  companion's 
ill  humor  beside,  said  he  would  not  ride  with 
such  a  mean  fellow ;  and  Fred  was  left  on  the 
board  to  see-saw  as  best  he  might,  alone. 

In  the  mean  time,  however,  William  had 
seized  the  plane,  and  Arthur  felt  quite  willing 
to  lend  it  to  him  ;  but  Fred  was  so  much  vexed 


THE  TOOL-HOUSE.  43 


at  being  defeated,  that  lie  declared  Will  should 
not  have  it  if  Arthur  would  not  ride  with  him. 
A  regular  battle  immediately  began  between  the 
brothers,  which  ended  iu  Frederick's  hand  being 
terribly  cut  with  the  sharp  instrument,  and  he 
ran  off  crying,  toward  his  own  home,  William 
slowly  following;  and  Arthur  returned  to  the 
quiet  enjoyment  of  his  work -bench  and  tools, 
saying  to  himself  as  he  did  so,  "  Fred  Murray  is 
a  very  selfish  boy,  and  I  don't  like  him  at  all." 


IV. 


THINK  it  will  be  quite  agreeable  to  turn 
from  such  a  noisy  scene  as  that  described 

fin  the  last  chapter,  to  a  warm,  sun-shiny 
morning  soon  afterward,  when  the  garden 
gate  was  quietly  opened,  and  little  Kitty 
Coleman,  in  her  clean  apron  and  white  bonnet, 
came  to  spend  the  day  with  Mary  Neland. 
Kitty  was  eight  years  old,  and  a  few  months 
older  than  Mary  ;  a  quiet,  sweet-tempered  child, 
whom  Mrs.  Neland  was  always  glad  to  see, 
because  she  knew  that  Kitty  was  well  taught  at 
home,  and  would  not  be  rude  or  noisy  when  she 
came  to  visit  them. 

Arthur  and  his  sister  were  in  the  parlor  with 
their  mother,  when  Kitty  came  ;  and  when  they 
heard  the  gate  open,  and  looked  out  and  saw 

(44) 


•rlir  rny-i'"<>M. 


KITTY   COLEMAN. 


who  it  was,  they  ran  eagerly  to  the  front  door 
to  meet  and  welcome  their  little  friend. 

And  first,  Kitty  went  into  the  parlor  to  speak 
to  Mrs.  Neland,  as  it  was  proper  she  should  do, 
and  then  they  all  three  went  up  stairs  to  a  snug 
little  room  in  the  attic,  which  was  called  the 
play-room, — because  it  held  all  the  toys,  and  the 
children  were  accustomed  to  amuse  themselves 
there  in  bad  or  cold  weather.  There  were  a  few 
bright  pictures  upon  the  walls,  which  Mrs. 
Neland  had  painted  when  she  was  quite  a  little 
girl;  but  for  that  reason  Arthur  and  Mary 
loved  to  see  them,  and  often  tried  to  do  some- 
thing of  the  kind  themselves. 

There  in  one  corner  was  a  doll's  bedstead,  with 
white  curtains,  counterpane  and  pillows,  and  a 
small  bureau,  and  a  little  low  table,  with  a  set  of 
china  cups  and  saucers  on  it,  and  a  small  chair, 
which  had  been  given  to  Mary  when  she  was 
only  three  years  old,  and  was  always  called  the 
"  yellow  chair,"  because  it  was  painted  yellow. 
Then  there  was  an  old  trunk,  with  the  hair 
nearly  worn  off,  in  which  were  a  variety  of  bits 


46  KITTY   COLEMAN. 


of  muslin,  and  silk,  and  ends  of  lace,  and  some 
half-worn  doll's  clothes,  and  a  few  old  books 
without  covers. 

Next  to  this  was  a  very  shabby  rocking-horse, 
without  his  ears,  and  a  piece  of  cord  for  a  bridle ; 
but,  poor  fellow !  his  best  days  were  over  now, 
ar.d  Arthur  cared  more  for  a  scamper  round  the 
garden  on  his  father's  cane,  than  he  did  for  a 
long  ride  on  his  once  pretty  pony,  who,  besides 
his  ears,  had  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  tail 
also. 

But  it  would  take  a  long  time  to  mention 
everything  in  this  pleasant  play-room, — for  Mary 
had  at  least  half  a  dozen  babies  scattered  about 
it;  and  Arthur  had  a  drum  and  broken  sword 
to  play  soldier  with,  and  an  old  wooden  dog, 
who  had  only  three  legs  now,  and  scarcely  a  bit 
of  paint  on  his  body,  but  who  had  once  been  a 
beauty,  and  was  called  Tray.  There  was  a  great 
chest,  too,  in  one  corner,  full  of  papers,  which 
served  as  a  table  sometimes,  and  held  a  couple  of 
paint-boxes,  and  innumerable  quantities  of  old 
pictures  and  drawings,  and  over  it  hung  an  old- 


KITTY  COLEMAN.  47 


fashioned  portrait  of  a  strange  gentleman  whom 
the  children  did  not  know,  with  a  very  pleasant 
face,  and  eyes  which  seemed  to  watch  them  while 
they  were  at  play ;  and  Mary  said  he  looked  as 
if  he  wanted  to  come  down  from  the  wall  and 
join  them.  I  think  there  were  some  other  things 
in  the  room,  but  I  cannot  recollect  them  all  now, 
and  must  proceed  to  tell  you  how  Arthur  and 
Mary,  with  Kitty  Coleman,  went  up  stairs,  and 
sat  down  for  a  nice  play,  with  the  old  toys  about 
them. 

If  you  had  seen  how  glad  Arthur  was  to  meet 
Kitty,  you  would  never  have  supposed  he  had 
been  so  anxious  for  other  companions.  lie 
brought  out  the  yellow  chair  for  her  to  sit  on, 
the  moment  they  entered  the  room,  and  then 
ran  down  stairs  again  to  bring  up  the  wax  dolly, 
Miss  Fanny  Fair,  from  his  mother's  pantry, 
where  it  was  generally  kept,  and  really  appeared 
to  have  forgotten  that  there  were  such  things  in 
the  world  as  tops  and  marbles. 

"I  know  you  like  Fanny  better  than  the 
rest,"  he  said,  as  he  laid  the  doll  on  Kitty's  lap, 


48  KITTY  COLEMAX. 


"  and  she  can  be  your  child,  to-day.  Mary  has 
made  a  new  frock  for  her,  and  the  old  rag-baby 
has  had  her  face  painted,  and  looks  a  great  deal 
prettier  now,  and  cleaner,  too." 

Kitty  thanked  him,  and  asked  where  the  rag- 
baby  was. 

Mary  said  she  had  left  her  on  the  parlor  sofa, 
and  Arthur,  without  waiting  to  be  asked,  ran 
down  again  to  bring  it.  The  new  frock  and  the 
clean  face  were  duly  admired,  and  then  the  two 
little  girls  set  about  "  playing  house "  in  good 
earnest. 

There  were  no  cross  words  between  them,  and 
Mary  did  not  say,  as  some  children  I  have  known 
do,  "I  must  have  this  doll  because  I  like  it  best, 
and  it  is  mine,  and  so  I  ought  to  have  it,"  but 
she  good-naturedly  allowed  Kitty  Coleman  to 
choose;  and  when  Kitty  said  "I  would  like 
Fanny  Fair  best,"  Mary  replied,  "  Well,  you  can 
have  her  to-day,  because  I  can  play  with  her 
when  you  are  not  here." 

Then  Kitty  took  one  corner  and  Mary  another, 
and  they  made  up  their  little  beds  for  the  dol- 


KITTY   COLEMAN.  49 


lies ;  and  Kitty  had  the  table  and  tea-cups  in  her 
corner,  and  sent  Arthur  to  invite  "  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son," as  Mary  chose  to  be  called,  to  drink  tea 
with  her;  and  when  Mary  said,  "Jane,  tell  Mrs. 
Hammond  I'll  come  with  pleasure  and  bring  all 
my  children,"  you  will  scarcely  believe  that  Ar- 
thur quite  forgot  his  dislike  of  being  called 
"  Jane,"  and  carried  back  the  message  as  he  was 
requested  to  do,  and  nursed  Fanny  Fair  while 
Mrs.  Hammond  prepared  the  tea,  and  in  fact 
was  as  useful  as  if  he  had  worn  petticoats  all  his 
life,  and  had  never  seen  a  top  or  shot  a  marble. 

At  length,  when  Mary  had  taken  tea  with 
Kitty,  and  Kitty  with  Mary ;  and  the  dolls  had 
each  been  dressed  and  undressed  several  times, 
and  all  the  cups  and  saucers  washed  and  put 
aside, — the  children  grew  tired  of  the  play-room, 
and  went  down  stairs  to  amuse  themselves  in  the 
garden  till  dinner-time.  It  was  a  delightful 
morning  early  in  June ;  the  air  was  sweet  with 
the  smell  of  roses,  which  were  blooming  on 
every  side,  and  beneath  the  trees  which  shaded 
the  house  they  found  a  pleasant  spot  for  their 
5 


50  KITTY  COLEMAN". 


enjoyment.  Arthur  showed  Kitty  how  to  spin 
his  humming-top,  though  the  gravel  walk  was 
not  a  good  place  for  it ;  and  then  he  drew,  first 
one  of  the  little  girls,  and  then  the  other,  up  and 
down,  and  picked  sweet  clover  for  them  to 
make  wreaths  for  the  dollies ;  and  in  this  way 
an  hour  passed  very  pleasantly  till  they  were 
summoned  to  dinner. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Mrs.  Neland  told 
them  it  was  too  warm  to  play  in  the  garden 
any  longer,  as  the  sun  was  quite  hot  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day;  she  therefore  proposed  they 
should  sit  in  the  piazza  under  the  shadow  of  the 
honeysuckles,  and  read.  Arthur,  she  said,  might 
read  aloud  while  the  girls  sewed  a  little,  as  Mary 
had  a  doll's  dress  partly  made,  and  Kitty  would 
no  doubt  be  willing  to  help  her. 

To  this  the  children  readily  assented,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  girls  were  seated  with  their 
work,  and  two  or  three  of  the  babies  in  little 
chairs  beside  them ;  and  then  Arthur  opened  the 
book  his  mother  had  lent  him,  and  read  the 
story  of 


KITTY   COLEMAN.  51 


®|je  (fociwrous  "gitth  Squiml. 

In  the  centre  of  a  thick  wood,  and  in  the  hol- 
low trunk  of  an  old  oak  tree,  there  once  lived  a 
family  of  Squirrels.  There  was  Father  Squirrel, 
and  Mother  Squirrel,  and  Bright-eye,  the  oldest 
of  their  children,  and  Sharp-tooth,  and  Bushy- 
tail,  and  Soft-skin,  and  little  Nimble-foot  the 
youngest, — and  a  very  happy  family  they  were,  I 
can  tell  you.  Early  in  the  morning,  before  the 
sun  came,  through  the  tall  tree-tops,  Father  Squir- 
rel was  awake,  and,  rousing  up  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, told  them  it  was  time  to  be  stirring,  for  it 
was  a  fine  day,  and  they  had  plenty  of  work  to 
do,  and  a  great  many  nuts  to  gather  in  for  their 
winter  store ;  so  Mother  Squirrel  opened  her 
eyes  and  shook  herself,  and  was  wide  awake  in  a 
minute ;  and  one  by  one  the  little  Squirrels  got 
awake  also,  and  were  popping  up  to  the  top  of 
their  nest,  to  see  for  themselves  how  things  look- 
ed outside. 

It  was  a  fine  autumn  morning,  when  the  nuts 


52  KITTY   COLEMAN. 


were  just  ripening,  and  the  chestnut  burs  burst- 
ing open  to  show  their  brown  fruit,  when  the 
father  thus  awoke  them  all.  "  "We  will  go  down 
to  the  foot  of  our  own  tree,"  he  said,  "and  there 
we  shall  find  a  nice  breakfast  of  acorns,  which 
the  wind  blew  down  in  the  night ;  for  it  blew  so 
hard,  that  I  could  not  sleep  for  the  noise." 

"We  shall  find  plenty  of  nuts  in  the  woods 
to-day, "  said  Mother  Squirrel. 

"I  know  of  a  chestnut-tree  that  is  full  of 
fine  nuts,"  said  Bright-eye;  "and  it  is  not  far 
from  home,  either." 

"  You  can  show  us  the  way,"  said  his  mother. 

"And  I  know  a  tree  of  walnuts,"  said  Soft- 
skin;  "Bushy-tail  and  I  found  it  out  yester- 
day." 

"We  shall  have  a  good  winter  store,"  said 
Father  Squirrel,  if  we  are  industrious,  and  start 
early,  before  the  wood  is  filled  with  people  who 
come  to  gather  nuts  as  well  as  we." 

"I  think  they  should  all  belong  to  us,"  said 
little  Nimble-foot,  for  the  whole  wood  is  ours." 

"  Oh,  no  I"  said  Sharp-tooth.  "  Mrs.  Kobin,  in 


KITTY  COLEMAN.  53 

the  Elm  tree,  says  it  all  belongs  to  her,  and  she 
can  build  a  nest  just  where  she  likes." 

"  Mrs.  Eobin  is  a  greedy  bird,"  said  Nimble- 
foot;  "she  has  no  more  right  to  it  than  we,  nor 
so  much." 

"Come,"  said  Father  Squirrel,  "let  us  go  to 
breakfast,  and  then  to  our  work.  No  matter  to 
whom  the  wood  belongs,  while  we  can  live  safe- 
ly in  our  old  tree,  where  my  father  lived  before 
me,  and  his  father  before  that."  So  the  whole 
family  descended  from  their  nest,  and  there  was 
a  fine  breakfast  of  acorns  spread  upon  the 
ground,  and  a  hearty  meal  they  made,  for  every- 
body was  hungry ;  after  which,  they  set  off  on 
their  ramble  among  the  nut  trees. 

As  she  had  promised,  Soft-skin  led  them  to 
the  tree  of  walnuts, — and  they  soon  ran  to  the 
topmost  boughs,  and  regaled  themselves  on  the 
ripe  nuts  to  their  hearts'  content,  though  they  had 
just  finished  breakfast ;  but  Squirrels,  I  believe, 
can  eat  nuts  all  day  long  if  they  try,  just  as  boys 
and  girls  can  eat  sugar-plums.  Presently,  how- 
ever, they  heard  a  great  squeaking  at  the  foot 
5* 


54  KITTY  COLEMAN. 


of  the  tree,  and  Father  Squirrel,  running  down, 
saw  a  poor  Wood-mouse  lying  on  the  ground, 
who  seemed  to  be  in  great  pain. 

"Oh!  neighbor  Squirrel,"  said  the  Wood- 
mouse,  "won't  you  help  me?  for  I  am  in  great 
trouble.  Two  of  my  little  mice  were  last  night 
put  to  death  by  one  of  those  dreadful  Owls,  who 
fly  through  the  wood  when  it  is  dark ;  and  this 
morning  I  came  out  to  find  something  for  my 
other  children, — for  I  was  afraid  to  let  them  stir 
from  the  nest, — and  have  been  so  unlucky  as  to 
pull  a  large  stone  upon  my  leg,  while  trying  to 
get  some  of  the  moss  for  my  bed." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  neighbor  Mouse  ?" 
said  the  Squirrel. 

"If  you  will  go  to  my  nest  under  the  old 
log,"  said  the  poor  Mouse,  "  and  carry  a  nut  to 
my  little  ones,  and  tell  them  I  will  be  at  home 
as  soon  as  possible,  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged 
to  you." 

Father  Squirrel  replied  that  he  would  go  with 
pleasure ;  so  he  ran  up  the  tree,  and  soon  brought 
down  his  wife  to  comfort  Mrs.  Mouse,  while  he 


KITTY   COLEMAX.  55 


went  to  feed  her  young  ones ;  and  Mother  Squir- 
rel, after  putting  some  damp  clay  on  the  injured 
leg  of  the  poor  animal,  called  Bright-eye  to  help 
her,  and  together  they  managed  to  assist  the 
Mouse  to  her  nest,  where  the  two  young  mice 
looked  very  glad  to  see  their  mother  come  back 
again. 

When  the  Mouse  was  safe,  and  Mother  Squir- 
rel had  done  all  in  her  power  to  make  them 
comfortable,  the  whole  family  returned  to  their 
work  in  the  wood,  and  by  night  they  had  gath- 
ered quite  a  number  of  nuts  to  add  to  their  win- 
ter store ;  for  you  know,  when  the  snow  is  on  the 
ground,  and  the  leaves  are  all  dead,  the  poor 
Squirrels  would  starve  if  they  did  not  lay  by 
something  for  winter  use,  and  which  serves  them 
till  the  cold  weather  and  their  long  naps  are 
over. 

"Well,  day  after  day  the  young  Squirrels  and 
their  father  and  mother  scampered  through  the 
trees,  up  and  down,  in  and  out,  as  merry  as 
could  be,  gathering  food,  and  enjoying  the  bright 
autumn  weather,  and  making  acquaintance  with 


56  KITTY   COLEMAN". 


all  the  other  Squirrels,  and  a  great  many  of  the 
birds  beside. 

Sometimes  they  were  frightened  by  the  nut- 
ting parties,  who  came  with  bags  and  baskets, 
and  long  poles  with  which  they  beat  the  trees ; 
and  then  Father  Squirrel  kept  them  in  the  nest 
for  fear  of  accidents.  Now  and  then  they 
went  to  pay  Mrs.  Mouse  a  visit,  but  the  poor 
thing  did  not  get  on  well ;  she  had  hurt  her  leg 
so  badly  that  she<  could  only  hop  a  little  way 
from  her  nest,  and  the  young  mice  just  managed 
to  find  enough  for  themselves,  and  so  Mrs. 
Mouse  had  rather  a  starving  time. 

One  day,  when  the  nuts  were  nearly  all  gone, 
and  the  family  lived  chiefly  on  acorns,  Bushy-tail 
found  several  very  fine  walnuts  among  the 
roots  of  a  large  tree,  at  some  distance  from  home. 
"Now,  it  was  a  rule  among  them,  to  divide  with 
each  other  anything  that  was  particularly  nice ; 
so  Bushy-tail,  like  a  good  Squirrel  as  he  was, 
scampered  off  to  call  his  brothers  and  sisters  to 
the  feast. 

"  My  father  and  mother  do  not  wish  any," 


KITTY    COLEMAX.  57 


said  Bushy-tail,  "  and  here  are  just  five  nuts,  so 
that  we  may  each  have  one.  This  is  the  small- 
est, so  I  will  take  it  myself;  Bright-eye  and 
Sharp-tooth  are  each  active  boys, — they  shall 
have  the  next  size;  and  these  two  large  nuts 
shall  belong  to  my  sisters,  Soft-skin  and  little 
Nimble-foot.  You  look  hungry,  my  dear  Nimble- 
foot,  so  pray  take  this  and  crack  it  at  once.  I 
am  sure  it  is  full  of  delicious  meat." 

Little  Nimble-foot  thanked  her  kind  brother, 
and  quickly  breaking  the  nut,  said  it  was  very 
nice  indeed. 

"And  why  not  eat  yours,  dear  Soft-skin?" 
asked  Bright-eye. 

"I  will  keep  it  till  by  and  by,"  said  Soft- 
skin.  So  they  finished  their  repast,  and  telling 
Bushy-tail  he  was  a  good  fellow,  and  they  would 
come  to  his  feast  again,  soon  ran  off  in  different 
directions  on  their  way  home. 

When  all  were  gone,  Soft-skin  took  the  nut 
in  her  mouth  and  sprang  away  by  herself,  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  wood.  Good  little  Soft-skin ! 
on  she  went  over  the  rough  ground,  and  through 


58  KITTY  COLEMAN. 


the  rustling  leaves,  till  she  reached  the  old  log 
under  which  Mrs.  Mouse  had  made  her  nest. 

"Are  you  at  home,  Mrs.  Mouse ?"  said  she. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  the  poor  lame  Wood- 
mouse.  "  I  am  always  glad  to  see  any  of  your 
family,  you  have  all  been  so  kind  to  me ;  I  wish 
my  house  was  large  enough  for  you  to  come 
in." 

"  I  can  only  stay  a  moment,"  said  the  little 
Squirrel,  "  for  my  mother  may  want  me.  I  came 
to  bring  you  this  nut,  which  I  hope  will  make 
you  a  small  supper ;  there  are  so  few  left  now, 
that  I  thought  you  would  like  it." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  child,"  said  the  Mouse. 
"  You  are  very  good  to  think  of  me,  and  I  am 
very  hungry,  for  I  have  eaten  nothing  all  day : 
my  two  children,  Snip  and  Sly,  went  away  yes- 
terday, and  have  not  come  back,  and  I  cannot 
tell  when  I  shall  see  them ;  and  I  am  so  lame 
and  so  old,  that  I  dare  not  go  far  from  my  nest, 
lest  I  could  not  get  home  again." 

Soft-skin  said  she  was  sorry  to  find  her  so  ail- 
ing, and  would  come  and  see  her  very  soon,  with 


KITTY  COLEMAN.  59 


Mother  Squirrel ;  and  then,  placing  the  nut  upon 
the  ground,  she  bade  the  Wood-mouse  good 
evening,  and  returned  with  a  feeling  of  great 
satisfaction  to  her  own  nest  in  the  old  oak  tree. 

Little  Soft-skin  never  told  any  one  what  be- 
came of  the  nice  nut.  Like  all  good  people 
when  they  act  rightly,  she  did  not  talk  about  her 
generosity,  or  boast  of  what  she  had  done.  But 
she  felt  a  great  deal  happier  that  night,  when  she 
went  to  sleep  and  thought  of  poor  Mrs.  Mouse, 
than  if  Bright-eye  had  given  her  all  the  nuts,  and 
she  had  eaten  them  every  one. 


When  Arthur  had  finished  his  story,  Kitty 
said  she  liked  it  very  much,  and  wished  she  was 
a  squirrel,  to  scamper  through  the  woods  and 
get  as  many  nuts  as  she  liked.  And  so  they 
went  on  talking  about  squirrels  and  their  funny 
ways,  for  some  time.  Then  Mary,  who  had 
taken  the  book  out  of  Arthur's  hand,  and  was 
turning  the  leaves,  said  she  would  read  them  a 
little  piece  of  poetry, — and  afterward,  they  would 


60  KITTY   COLEMAN. 


go  into  the  garden  again.     Then  Mary  read  as 
follows  :  — 


"     esses 

"  Mother,  may  I  go  this  evening 
Down  the  lane  with  cousin  Anne  ? 

For  the  lane  is  full  of  berries 
I  will  gather,  if  I  can. 

"  I  will  bring  them  in  a  basket, 
Ripe  and  fresh  for  father's  tea; 

There  will  be  enough  for  Charlie, 
And  perhaps  a  few  for  me. 

"  May  I  go,  then,  dearest  mother, 
With  my  cousin  down  the  lane?" 

"  Yes,  my  Bessie,  if  you  promise 
Quickly  to  return  again. 

"  Evening  hours  are  often  chilly  ; 

Dews  are  heavy  —  and  you  know 
How  the  sickness  came  upon  you 

From  the  dews,  a  year  ago. 

"  Half  an  hour  may  serve  to  get  them, 
If  the  berries  stand  so  thick  ; 

You  may  get  a  brimming  basket, 
Bessie  —  if  you  will  be  quick." 

Off  the  child  in  gayest  transport 
Flew,  the  treasured  store  to  gain; 

Promised  to  be  home  at  sunset, 
And  went  gayly  down  the  lane. 


KITTY  COLEMAN.  61 


Surely,  there  were  berries  plenty, 
But  beyond  her  reach  they  grew ; 

Standing  here  and  there  on  tip-toe, 
She  could  gather  but  a  few. 

Cousin  Annie,  somewhat  taller, 
Gained  a  basketful  with  ease ; 

"  Come  a  little  farther,  Bessie, 
There  are  plenty,  past  the  trees." 

Past  the  trees  indeed  she  found  them, 
But  the  sun  was  getting  low ; — 

With  a  handful  in  the  basket, 
Bessie  knew  'twas  time  to  go. 

"  Nonsense  I  "  Annie  cried,  with  laughter, 
"  Do  not  go  with  such  a  few !" 

"  No,  I  promised,"  Bessie  answered, 
"  Not  to  linger  in  the  dew." 

Still,  by  clustering  berries  tempted, 

Annie  urged  a  longer  stay. 
"  No,  'tis  sunset,  and  I  promised" 

Little  Bessie  still  would  say. 

Turning  with  a  look  of  sadness, 

Slow  she^  wandered  through  the  lane 

Nor  could  Annie's  earnest  pleading 
Serve  to  lure  her  back  again. 

Standing  close  beside  her  mother, 
With  the  moisture  in  her  eyes, 

She  is  pointing  to  the  berries, 
And  her  trembling  lip  replies : — 

6 


62  KITTY  COLEMAN". 


"  These  are  all  that  I  could  gather ; 

There  were  plenty,  but  they  grew 
Where  I  could  not  get  them  quickly, 

So  I  only  brought  a  few ; 
For  you  know  that  I  had  promised 

Not  to  linger  in  the  dew." 

"  Darling,''  said  her  mother,  fondly, 

Kissing  lips  with  sorrow  mute, 
"  You  have  brought  me  something  dearer 

Than  a  baskets/fed  with  fruit — 

"  Brought  me  your  unbroken  promise, 

More  to  me  than  any  store ; 
Gladly  feeling,  little  daughter, 

I  may  trust  you  evermore." 

When  Mary  had  finished  reading,  she  carried 
the  book  back  to  her  mother ;  and  then  the  three 
children  went  to  play  in  the  garden.  They  built 
houses  in  the  sand,  rolled  the  dolls  in  the  wheel- 
barrow, and  amused  themselves  in  the  tool-house 
till  tea-time ;  after  which  Kitty  Coleman  went 
home,  and  Arthur  and  his  sister  were  glad  to 
go  to  bed. 


V. 

flft  Stoing. 


FEW  days  after  Kitty  Coleman's  visit, 
as  Arthur  was  standing  at  the  front  gate 
he  saw  Fred  and  Will  Murray  coming 
down  the  street.  When  they  came 
near  the  gate,  Fred  called  out,  "  Hey, 
Arthur  N  eland  !  won't  you  go  back  to  our 
house,  and  play  awhile?  Father  has  gone  to 
the  city,  and  mother  says  we  make  her  head 
ache,  playing  in  the  hall,  and  we  came  to  ask 
you  to  come  into  our  garden." 

"  I'll  see,"  said  Arthur,  "  if  my  mother  will  let 
me  go."  So  he  ran  in,  and  Mrs.  Neland  said 
he  might  stay  two  hours,  but  no  longer  ;  and  so 
Arthur  washed  his  hands,  and  brushed  his  hair 
smooth,  and  went  with  the  two  boys  into  Mr. 
Murray's  garden. 

(63) 


64  THE   HIGH   SWING. 


"What  shall  we  play?"  asked  Will. 

"  Marbles,"  said  Arthur,  naming  his  favorite 
game.  "  I've  got  a  pocketful." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Frederick.  So  they  drew  a 
ring  in  the  sand,  and  began.  But  pretty  soon 
the  two  Hurrays  began  to  quarrel.  Fred  called 
Will  a  cheat,  and  Will  said,  "you  lie."  So 
they  gave  up  playing,  and  went  at  something 
else.  . 

Then  Fred  harnessed  Will  and  Arthur  to- 
gether for  a  pair  of  horses,  and  off  they  went 
at  full  speed.  Will  kicked  and  capered,  and 
Arthur  pranced  along,  and  Fred  flourished  his 
whip,  and  a  fine  team  they  were.  Up  and  down 
they  ran,  through  the  long  walks,  and  past  the 
house,  and  Fred  fastened  them  to  a  tree,  while 
he  went  to  speak  to  his  mother ;  and  so  they  got 
on  very  well  for  half  an  hour.  Then  Will  stood 
still. 

"Stop  that  whip,"  he  cried.  "Don't  hit  a 
fellow  so  hard." 

"  Mind  yourself,  then,  old  black,"  said  Fred, 
giving  him  another  crack. 


THE   HIGH   SWING.  65 


"I  tell  you  it  hurts,"  said  Will.  "I  won't 
play."  And  he  tore  off  his  harness. 

"  Get  away  with  you,  then,"  said  Fred ;  "  Ar- 
thur will  be  my  horse."  And  Arthur  trotted  off 
in  fine  style,  leaving  Will  to  himself  on  the 
front  steps. 

"Boys,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  coming  to  the 
door,  "  don't  you  want  some  gingerbread  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  both  the  boys  in  a  breath. 

"You've  got  the  biggest  bit,"  said  Fred,  try- 
ing to  snatch  the  piece  from  Will's  hand. 

"  For  shame !  children,"  said  their  mother. 
"How  can  you  act  so?  I  dare  say  Arthur 
Neland  never  saw  such  rude  boys  before  in  his 
life." 

Fred  and  Will  both  laughed,  and  said,  "  Who 
cares  ?"  while  they  crammed  the  gingerbread  into 
their  mouths  until  it  nearly  choked  them  ;  and 
Arthur  could  not  help  saying,  "  No,  ma'am,  I 
never  did." 

"  Take  another  piece,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, handing  him  the  plate.     But  Arthur  was 
not  very  hungry,  so  he  replied,  "No,  ma'am," 
6* 


66  THE   HIGH  SWING. 


and  the  other  boys  greedily  snatched  at  the 
remainder,  and  devoured  it  in  a  moment. 

"  Come,"  said  Fred,  as  he  swallowed  the  last 
bit,  and  Mrs.  Murray  went  into  the  house  again, 
"  let's  do  something." 

"I'm  tired  of  playing  horse,"  said  Arthur  ;  "  I 
wonder  how  late  it  is.  I  must  go  home  at  twelve 
o'clock." 

"  Oh,  it  won't  be  twelve  this  long  time,"  said 
"Will.  "  We've  scarcely  had  any  fun,  yet.  Fred, 
let  us  make  a  swing  with  that  rope  in  the  barn." 

"  That  will  be  first-rate,"  said  Fred  ;  and  they 
all  scampered  off  to  the  barn  at  the  bottom  of 
the  garden.  When  the  boys  wept  in,  they  found 
a  man  rubbing  down  Mr.  Murray's  horse. 

"  John,  where's  that  rope  we  had  yesterday?" 
cried  Will. 

John  said  he  did  not  know. 

"  Then  find  it  for  us,"  said  Fred. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  asked 
John. 

"  You'U  see— just  get  it,"  said  Will.  So  John 
good-naturedly  left  his  work,  and  looked  for  the 


THE  HIGH  SWING.  67 


rope.  "  It's  a  pretty  old  one,"  said  lie,  as  he 
found  it  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  barn  and  handed 
it  to  the  boys. 

"It  will  do,"  said  Fred;  "now,  where  shall 
we  put  it  up  ?" 

"  If  you  mean  to  make  a  swing,"  said  John, 
"  I'm  afraid  it  won't  bear  you." 

"Poh !  not  bear  us !"  said  Fred.  "  Why,  it 
would  carry  a  dozen  such  boys  as  we  are." 

"  But  your  father  told  you,  the  other  day,  not 
to  swing  with  it,"  said  John. 

"  He  did  not,"  cried  Will. 

"  Yes,  he  did,  master  Will,  for  I  heard  him 
myself." 

" He  won't  mind,  I  know,"  said  Fred ;  "so 
just  stand  out  of  the  way,  Arthur,  while  I 
throw  the  end  over  that  beam." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  wait,  and  ask  your  father  ?" 
inquired  Arthur,  who  had  been  taught  to 
permission  of  his  parents,  before  he  did  any- 
thing. 

"  Wait !  no,"  said  Fred,  "  what  should  we  wait 
for  ?.  He  won't  be  at  home  till  night.  Here  goes," 


THE   HIGH 


and  he  threw  the  rope  over  the  beam.  Then  he 
made  a  slip-noose,  and  fastened  one  end  ;  and,  as 
John  would  not  help  him,  he  put  a  ladder  up  to 
the  beam,  and  tied  the  other  end  of  the  rope  to 
it.  "Hurrah!"  cried  he,  as  he  jumped  down 
upon  the  barn  floor.  "  I've  done  it,  Mr.  John, 
and  no  thanks  to  you.  Now  for  a  swing !" 
Fred  jumped  into  the  seat  as  he  spoke,  and 
swung  several  times  across  the  barn.  Will  ran 
to  push  him. 

"  Higher !  higher !"  cried  Fred,  delighted  with 
his  success ;  "up  she  goes ;  give  us  another, 
Will— it's  grand,  I  tell  you." 

"  Now  it's  my  turn,"  said  Will,  after  swinging 
Frederick  for  some  time,  and  Fred  got  out  and 
gave  it  up  to  him.  After  a  while  they  gave 
Arthur  a  chance ;  and  though  there  was  some- 
thing which  seemed  to  whisper  in  Arthur's  ear 
that  they  were  disobeying  Mr.  Murray,  yet  he 
found  as  much  pleasure  in  the  swing  as  the  two 
brothers  had  done,  and  they  continued  to  amuse 
themselves  a  long  while  with  it  without  quar- 
relling. At  last,  Fred  said, — 


THE   HIGH   SWING.  69 


"  Suppose  we  all  get  in  at  once' — it  will  be 
such  fun!" 

"May-be  the  rope  will  break,"  said  Arthur, 
"  and  the  swing  is  so  high,  we  might  fall." 

"It  won't  break,"  said  Will ;  "  don't  you  see 
how  strong  it  is  ?  Come,  Fred,  you  get  in,  and 
I  will  sit  in  your  lap  ;  and  if  Arthur's  afraid,  he 
can  push  us."  So  the  two  boys  climbed  into  the 
swing. 

Now  the  old  rope  had  been  strained  a  great 
deal  by  the  weight  of  the  boys,  and  when  they 
were  both  upon  it,  it  began  to  crack.  But  Fred 
and  Will  did  not  notice  that  one  of  the  strands 
had  parted,  and  calling  out  to  Arthur  to  "  swing 
higher !  swing  higher !"  were  soon  tossing  up 
and  down  as  far  and  as  fast  as  Arthur's  strength 
would  push  them.  - 

"  Once  more,"  cried  Will ;  "  give  us  a  good 
one,  now,  and  I'll  touch  my  feet  to  the  top  of 
•that  door."  Arthur  pushed  with  all  his  might; 
the  boys  went  up,  up,  as  far  as  the  rope  would 
allow; — as  they  came  down,  it  suddenly  gave 
way ;  they  were  dashed  on  the  barn  floor  in  a 


70  THE   HIGH   SWING. 


moment,  and  with  such  force  that  Fred,  who 
was  below,  was  completely  stunned  by  the  fall, 
the  back  of  his  head  striking  first,  and  he  lay 
quite  senseless;  while  Will  screamed  with  all  his 
power,  and  soon  brought  John,  and  Mrs.  Murray 
herself,  into  the  barn,  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

They  picked  Frederick  up,  and  John  .carried 
him  into  the  house ;  and  Mrs.  Murray,  who  was 
terribly  frightened,  and  very  angry,  gave  Wil- 
liam a  box  on  the  ear,  and  sent  him  crying  after 
his  brother,  telling  him  she  hoped  his  father 
would  whip  them  both,  for  they  were  the  most 
troublesome  boys  in  the  world,  and  always  in 
mischief.  Arthur  could  not  help  being  very 
much  ashamed,  and  rather  frightened,  though  it 
was  not  his  fault  that  the  boys  put  up  the  swing. 
Mrs.  Murray  seemed  to  think  he  was  to  blame 
too,  but  she  did  not  say  so  exactly ;  she  only 
looked  at  him  sternly,  and  said,  "  Arthur,  you 
had  better  go  home  now,"  which  he  was  not  slow 
in  obeying,  and  scampered  back  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible, to  tell  the  whole  story  to  his  mother  and 
Mary. 


VI. 

®|[*  gtflhtt 


ETHUE,"  said  Mary,  one  day,  "if 
you  will  do  something  for  me,  I  will 
do  something  for  you." 

"Well,"  said    Arthur,  "what   is 
it?" 

"But  will  you  promise  to  do  it?" 
"  Yes,  if  I  can"  said  Arthur.  "  I  cannot  prom- 
ise certainly,  you  know,  because  it  might  be 
something  that  I  could  not  do  at  all,  and  then  I 
should  break  my  promise." 

"What  a  wise  boy  you  are,"  said  Mary, 
laughing.  "  Of  course  you  couldn't  do  it,  if  you 
couldn't,  and  I  wouldn't  be  so  silly  as  to  ask 
you." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  might  ask  me  to  do  a  great 
many  things  I  could  not,"  persisted  Arthur. 

(71) 


72  THE   BROKEN   WINDOW. 


"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  "I  might  ask  you  to  creep 
up  the  chimney ;  or  walk  through  the  village 
on  your  head ;  or  put  a  ladder  to  the  moon,  and 
climb  up ; — of  course  you  couldn't  do  either  of 
these." 

"  No,  but  you  might  ask  me  to  disobey  moth- 
er, or  tell  an  untruth,  or  try  and  hurt  some  one," 
said  Arthur. 

"  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  ask  you  to  do  those," 
said  Mary. 

"  "Well,  what  is  it  ?"  said  Arthur.  "  I  will  if 
I  can." 

"You  can,"  said  Mary,  "because  I  only  want 
you  to  help  me  weed  one  of  my  flower-beds. 
Mother  said  yesterday  my  garden  was  quite 
overrun  with  weeds,  and  she  was  ashamed  to  see 
it ;  and  I  worked  all  the  morning,  and  got  every- 
thing nice  but  one  bed." 

"It  is  such  hot  work,"  said  Arthur;  "and 
look,  I  have  just  washed  my  hands !" 

"  But  you  can  easily  wash  them  again,  and 
we  can  do  it  now,  while  the  garden  is  shady. 
Come,  be  a  good  boy.  You  know  you  said  you 


THE   BROKEN   WINDOW.  73 


would  if  you  could,"  said  little  Mary,  in  a  coax- 
ing tone. 

"And  what  will  you  do  for  me?"  asked  Ar- 
thur, getting  up  slowly  from  his  seat  on  the  piaz- 
za, and  stretching  himself. 

"  Oh !  anything  you  wish, "  said  Mary, 
eagerly. 

"Well,  I  want  this  covered,"  said  Arthur, 
drawing  a  worsted  ball  from  his  pocket. 

Mary  took  it  from  him,  and  turned  it  round 
and  round  in  her  hands.  "  I  guess  I  can  do  it," 
she  said,  "if  I  try,  and  mother  will  show  me 
how.  I  never  did  one  before." 

"It  is  very  easy,"  said  Arthur;  "just  take  an 
old  glove  and  sew  it  round." 

"  Is  it  as  easy  as  weeding,"  asked  Mary,  laugh- 
ing. 

"To  be  sure  it  is,  and  a  great  deal  easier," 
said  Arthur,  "for  it  won't  make  you  so  hot,  nor 
soil  your  hands." 

Mary  slipped  the  ball  into  her  pocket,  saying 
again  she  would  try,  and,  tying  on  her  sun-bon- 
net, went  with  Arthur  to  the  garden-bed ;  and 


74  THE   BROKEN    WINDOW. 


though  it  was  dirty  work,  and  tiresome  too,  yet 
they  were  so  industrious  that  all  the  weeds  were 
removed  in  an  hour, — and  when  they  came  back 
to  the  house,  Mary  sat  down  by  her  mother's 
work-table  to  cover  the  ball  as  she  had  promised. 
Arthur  looked  on. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  very  easy  to  do  this,"  said 
Mary  at  last,  as  the  covering  slipped  from  side 
to  side,  and  once  or  twice  the  ball  rolled  on  the 
floor ;  "  it  is  harder  than  I  thought." 

"I  will  help  you,  Mary,"  said  her  mother. 
"It  is  rather  a  difficult  job  for  your  little  fin- 
gers." 

Mrs.  Neland  took  the  ball  as  she  spoke,  and 
after  pinning  on  the  kid,  and  fitting  it  nicely  with 
her  scissors,  she  gave  Mary  a  needleful  of  strong 
thread,  and  showed  her  how  to  sew  it  on. 

"  How  easy  it  is  to  do  things  when  we  know 
how,"  said  Mary,  as  she  finished  the  ball.  "  See 
how  smooth  it  is !  but  I  could  not  have  done  it 
by  myself,  without  help." 

"It  is  capital !"  said  Arthur,  as  he  bounced  it 
on  the  floor.  "There  is  a  bit  of  India-rubber 


THE   BROKEN   WINDOW.  75 


inside,  and  it  goes  up  ]ike  a  cork.  Thank  you, 
Mary, — I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  You  had  better  take  it  out  of  doors  if  you 
mean  to  play  with  it  now,"  said  his  mother. 
"  You  may  do  mischief  with  it  here." 

"  I  think  I  will,"  said  Arthur,  and  he  ran  out. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  gate  he  heard  some 
one  trying  to  open  it,  and  saw  William  Murray 
peeping  through.  "I  can't  open  this  plaguey 
thing,"  said  Will,  pulling  impatiently  at  the 
lock.  "Why  don't  your  father  get  a  better 
one?" 

Arthur  instantly  unfastened  it,  and  William 
walked  in,  looking  at  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and 
saying  the  skin  was  almost  off. 

"Why  didn't  you  call  me?"  asked  Arthur. 
"  I  was  only  in  the  parlor." 

"I  did  call  till  I  was  tired,"  said  Will.  "I 
came  here  to  play  with  you  a  little ;  Fred  has 
gone  to  the  city  with  father,  and  I  am  all 
alone." 

"  Do  you  like  ball  ?"  said  Arthur.  "  My  sister 
has  just  covered  this  for  me,  and  we  can  play. 


76  THE   BROKEN   WINDOW. 


I'll  get  my  bat,"  and  lie  threw  up  the  ball,  and 
"Will  caught  it. 

"  It  is  not  as  good  as  mine,"  he  said,  "  but  we 
can  use  it.  Get  the  bat  quick,  and  let's  begin." 
•  Arthur  went  to  look  for  it;  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't 
find  it,"  said  he,  coming  back.  "I  can't  think 
what  I  did  with  it  yesterday.  I  had  it  in  the 
.walk  at  the  end  of  the  house." 

"May- be  I  can  find  it,"  said  "Will,  and  they 
went  to  the  end  of  the  house  together. 

But  though  Will  Murray  had  such  sharp  eyes, 
and  both  he  and  Arthur  looked  in  every  direc- 
tion, the  bat  could  not  be  found.  "Plague  on 
it!"  said  Will,  "don't  look  any  longer;  make  a 
bat  of  this  stick, — it  will  do  pretty  well, — and  let 
us  begin.  I  can't  stay  long." 

"It  will  answer  pretty  well,"  said  Arthur, 
"but  we  can't  strike  even  with  it  I'm  afraid." 

"  Try  it,"  said  Will,  and  he  tossed  the  ball  to- 
wards Arthur,  as  he  spoke. 

Arthur  tried,  but  missed,  and  the  ball  fell  at 
his  feet.  "  This  stick  is  no  good  at  all,"  he  said, 
"  I  guess  we  shall  not  be  able  to  use  it" 


BROKEN   WINDOW. 


THE   BROKEN   WINDOW.  77 


"Hand  it  here,"  said  Will,  proudly.  "I'll 
show  you  how ;  give  us  a  fair  chance  now.  There 
she  goes,"  and  he  knocked  the  ball  over  the  fence. 

Arthur  ran  for  it.  "  That  was  a  capital  hit," 
said  he ;  "I  wonder  if  I  shall  do  as  well,  this 
time." 

"You  can't  strike  it,"  said  Will.  "I'll  bet 
you  a  cent  you  don't,  once  in  ten  times." 

"  Give  us  a  good  throw,  now,"  said  Arthur, 
and  as  the  ball  came  toward  him,  he  gave  it  a 
knock  with  all  his  might,  and  sent  it — not  over 
the  fence,  but  pop  through  the  side  window  of 
the  best  parlor. 

"There !  Master  Arthur  Neland,  you've  done 
it,"  cried  Will,  as  the  glass  jingled  down  upon 
the  ground.  "  What  will  your  mother  say  now, 
old  fellow?  You'll  get  it." 

Arthur  gazed  up  at  the  window  in  dismay. 
"  It  was  this  crooked  stick,"  he  said.  "  I  thought 
it  would  not  strike  even." 

"What  will  you  do?"  asked  Will. 

"Do!"  said  Arthur,  in  surprise.  "Why,  go 
and  tell  my  mother  at  once,  to  be  sure." 


78  THE  BROKEN   WINDOW. 


"  But  you'll  certainly  get  a  whipping,  if  you 
tell,"  said  William.  "Can't  you  say  the  cat 
broke  it?" 

11  No,"  said  Arthur,  indignantly ;  "do  you 
think  I  would  tell  a  lie  about  it?" 

"But  the  whipping,"  said  Will. 

"  I  would  rather  be  whipped  than  tell  an  un- 
truth," said  Arthur,  proudly. 

"I  would  not,"  said  Will.  "Why,  I  tell  a 
dozen  every  day,  if  I  get  into  a  scrape,  and  so 
does  Fred.  We  don't  care,  if  we  are  not  found 
out." 

"  Well,  /care,"  said  Arthur.  "  I  never  told  a 
lie  in  my  life,  and  I  never  will.  My  father  says 
it  is  cowardly  as  well  as  wicked,  and  I  don't 
want  to  be  a  coward." 

He  walked  off  as  he  spoke  toward  the  door, 
and  Will  followed,  to  see  what  would  be  done 
to  pay  for  the  mischief,  and  if  Arthur  would 
really  tell  the  truth,  which  he  very  much  doubt- 
ed. At  the  parlor  door  he  stood  still  and  listened. 
Arthur  went  in,  and  walked  straight  up  to  his 
mother. 


THE  BROKEN   WINDOW.  79 


"Mother,"  he  said,  "I  have  met  with  a  great 
misfortune ;  I  have  broken  a  window  in  the 
next  room." 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  Arthur,"  said  his 
mother,  gravely.  "How  did  it  happen?  " 

"  I  broke  it  with  my  ball,"  replied  Arthur. 
"  I  could  not  find  my  bat,  and  I  struck  it  with 
this  crooked  stick,  and  that  sent  it  the  wrong 
way,  and  it  went  through  the  glass." 

"  You  did  wrong  in  playing  so  near  the 
house."  said  Mrs.  Neland.  "I  sent  you  from  this 
room;  for  fear  of  accident ;  and  you  should  have 
gone  to  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  quite  out  of 
the  way." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  mother,"  said  Arthur.  "  I 
will  try  and  remember  next  time,  and  not  play 
so  near  the  house." 

"I  see  you  are  sorry,"  replied  Mrs.  Neland, 
"and  am  glad  to  find  you  so,  although  that  will 
not  mend  my  window.  Put  away  your  ball  now, 
and  ask  Susan  for  a  dust-pan  and  brush,  and 
then  go  into  the  parlor  and  sweep  all  the  broken 
glass  very  carefully  into  the  pan,  and  put  it  into 


80  THE   BROKEN   WINDOW. 


the  fire.      Since  you  have  done  the  mischief, 
you  must  clear  it  away  yourself." 

"Mother,  William  Murray  is  at  the  door," 
said  Arthur,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Come  in,  William."  said  Mrs.  Neland,  kindly. 
"  I  cannot  let  Arthur  go  out  to  play  again,  just 
now,  but  you  may  amuse  yourself  here  with 
Mary." 

Will  hung  down  his  head,  and  made  no  reply. 
He  wanted  to  go  in,  but  felt  ashamed  to  do  so. 
Mary  went  out,  and  took  hold  of  his  hand. 
"  Won't  you  come  and  see  my  paint-box?  "  said 
the  little  girl ;  and  she  drew  him  into  the  parlor, 
and  made  a  place  for  him  at  the  table.  Good 
little  Mary,  she  was  so  kind  to  every  one ! 

Will  looked  at  the  paint-box,  and  at  some  pic- 
ture-books which  Mary  also  showed  him  ;  and 
by  the  time  Arthur  had  swept  up  the  broken 
glass  and  came  back  into  the  sitting-room,  Will 
began  to  feel  a  little  less  shy  and  uncomforta- 
ble. 

"Now,  Arthur,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "you  had 
better  sit  down  in  that  corner,  and  finish  your 


THE   BROKEN   WINDOW.  81 


sums;  and  William  can  have  Mary's  slate  to 
draw  on,  while  you  are  busy."  And  Arthur  did 
as  his  mother  desired.  Mrs.  Neland  did  not  wish 
to  punish  her  little  boy  for  an  accident,  for  she 
knew  he  did  not  intend  to  do  mischief,  and  was, 
beside,  very  sorry  for  what  had  happened ;  but 
she  wanted  him  to  give  up  his  play,  in  order 
that  he  might  remember  the  next  time  he  went 
out  with  his  ball,  not  to  throw  it  too  near  the 
house,  and  then  the  same  misfortune  would  not 
occur  again.  And  I  think  it  was  a  good  plan ; 
for  boys  should  not  forget,  when  they  .put  other 
people  to  inconvenience  and  trouble.  I  do  not 
approve  of  whipping,  either,  if  it  can  be  helped, 
and  a  great  many  wrong  things  which  children 
do,  are  just  because  they  forget  so  often. 

"When  Arthur  had  finished  his  sums,  his 
mother  said  she  would  give  him  a  short  story  to 
read  aloud,  as  she  thought  William  would  like 
it  as  well  as  himself.  So  Arthur  drew  his  chair 
to  the  table,  beside  his  sister,  and  when  his 
mother  had  given  him  the  book,  read  the  story 
of 


82  THE   BROKEN  WINDOW. 


|ack   Hitir   Ins   |)cnng. 

Jack  was  a  little  boy  just  seven  years  old. 
His  right  name  was  John,  but  everybody — and 
I'm.  sure  I  can't  tell  why — called  him  Jack.  It 
couldn't  have  been  for  shortness,  because  there 
are  four  letters  in  each  name.  J  O  H  N — John, 
and  J  A  C  K — Jack ;  and  I  am  equally  sure  it 
was  not  for  beauty,  since  one  name  is  quite  as 
good  as  the  other  ;  but  I  suppose  it  was  not  of 
much  consequence  what  they  called  him,  as  long 
as  he  was  not  called  a  bad  boy. 

Well,  one  day  Jack  was  leaning  over  the  gate 
in  front  of  his  father's  house,  doing  nothing  but 
whistling,  and  looking  across  the  street  at  a  drove 
of  cows  and  oxen  that  a  man  was  driving. 
Pretty  soon  one  of  the  cows  strayed  away  from 
the  rest,  and  went  down  a  lane,  close  beside  the 
house  where  Jack'  lived.  "  Hey,  there  !  "  cried 
the  man,  "  come  back,  I  tell  you  ; "  and  he  would 
have  run  after  the  cow,  if  the  other  cattle  had  not 
gone  down  the  same  lane  on  the  other  side  of 
the  street,  and  he  had  to  go  after  them  first. 


THE   BROKEN   WINDOW.  83 


Now  Jack  was  used  to  cows,  and  not  at  all 
afraid  of  them,  for  his  father  kept  two  in  a  field 
just  out  of  the  village;  and  sometimes  Jack 
went  with  his  brother  to  fetch  them  home.  So 
he  jumped  off  the  gate,  and  ran  down  the  lane 
after  the  man's  cow,  in  a  minute,  and  soon  drove 
her  back  into  the  street,  beside  the  others. 

"  Halloa,  you're  a  smart  chap  for  your  size," 
said  the  man.  "  What's  your  name,  General  ?  " 

"Jack." 

"  Jack,  hey !  Jack  Frost,  or  Jack  the  Giant- 
Killer?" 

"  It's  neither  of  those  Jacks." 

"  Then  I  guess  its  '  Jack  and  the  Bean-stalk.' " 

"  No,  it  ain't." 

"  Well,  then,  its  Jack  Sprat." 

"No." 

"  May -be  you  haven't  any  name,"  said  the  man. 

"Yes,  I  have,  though;  my  name  is  Jack 
Jones." 

"  Well,  Jack  Jones,  don't  you  want  to  help 
me  drive  these  creatures  to  market  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'd  like  to,"  said  Jack,  "  only  I  can't" 


84:  THE   BKOKEN   WINDOW. 


"  Why  can't  you  ?  "  said  the  man,  as  he  walk- 
ed slowly  along  after  his  drove,  and  little  Jack 
walked  with  him. 

"  'Cause  our  folks  wouldn't  let  me,"  replied 
Jack. 

"  Do  you  go  to  school?  " 

"  Yes,  just  down  the  street." 

"  Can  you  read,  General?  " 

u  Yes,  pretty  well." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  can  read  what  is  on  that," 
said  the  man,  drawing  a  penny  from  his  pocket, 
and  handing  it  to  Jack. 

Jack  looked  at  it  a  moment,  and  then  said 
slowly,  "  One  Cent." 

"  Eight,"  said  the  man.  "  Now  you  may  have 
that,  as  you  can  read  it." 

Jack  looked  much  pleased,  for  he  did  not  get 
money  very  often,  and  said,  "Thank  you,  sir." 

"  Well,  good-bye,  Jack — I  guess  you've  gone 
about  far  enough,"  said  the  man.  "And  now  I 
must  get  on  to  market." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Jack ;  and  the  man  went 
away  down  the  street,  and  the  little  boy  ran  home. 


THE  BROKEN   WINDOW.  85 


When  Jack  got  back  to  his  place  on  the  gate, 
he  began  thinking  what  he  should  do  with  his 
penny. 

"  I  think  I'll  buy  some  marbles,"  said  he.  "  I 
can  get  four  with  a  cent,  and  I  want  some  mar- 
bles dreadfully."  And  then  he  took  the  money 
from  his  pocket,  and  began  tossing  it  up.  It 
was  a  bright  penny,  and  Jack  as  he  looked  at  it 
thought  it  worth  more  than  four  marbles.  ''  I 
guess  candy  would  be  better,"  said  he.  "  Mint- 
stick  is  good.  I'll  buy  mint-stick."  So  he  got 
off  the  gate  and  walked  away  to  the  candy-shop, 
which  was  at  some  distance  from  home.  When 
he  reached  the  shop,  Jack  stopped  outside  to 
look  in  at  the  window ;  for  Mrs.  Giles,  who  sold 
candies,  and  a  few  toys,  and  some  other  little 
matters,  had  put  a  great  many  things  there 
which  were  a  sad  temptation  to  the  boys  and 
girls  who  went  by  on  their  way  to  school. 
While  Jack  stood  at  the  window,  another  boy 
came  up  and  stopped,  too. 

".I  wish  I  had  some  money,"  said  the  boy, 
after  he  had  looked  awhile  ;  "I'd  buy  that  top.5* 


86  THE  BROKEN  WINDOW. 


"I've  got  a  penny,"  said  Jack ; "  may-be  I'll 
buy  it." 

"Have  you?"  said  the  boy;  "  well,  that's  a 
capital  top." 

"I  wonder  how  much  those  whistles  are?" 
said  Jack. 

"  Poh !  don't  waste  your  money.  You  can 
make  a  whistle  yourself,  with  a  bit  of  willow," 
said  the  boy.  "  How  would  you  like  a  kite — • 
that  green  one  ?" 

"Oh!  yes,  but  there  ain't  much  wind,  this 
warm  weather." 

"  Well,  there's  a  tin  trumpet,  why  don't  you 
buy  that?" 

"  I'll  go  and  ask  Mrs.  Giles  the  price  of  it," 
said  Jack,  and  he  walked  into  the  shop. 

Mrs.  Giles  said  the  tin  trumpet  was  a  penny, 
and  Jack  had  just  decided  to  take  it,  when  he 
saw  a  wooden  horse  poking  his  head  out  of  a 
drawer;  and  when  Mrs.  Giles  found  that  he 
wanted  to  look  at  that,  she  opened  the  drawer, 
and  showed  him  a  great  many  other  penny  toys, 
so  that  poor  Jack  got  more  and  more  puzzled 


THE  BROKEN  WINDOW.  87 


what  to  buy,  among  so  many  to  choose  from. 
At  last,  quite  in  despair,  he  went  back  to  the  tin 
trumpet,  and  said  he  would  take  that.  So  Mrs. 
Giles  handed  it  to  him,  and  he  was  just  taking 
the  penny  out  of  his  pocket,  when — what  do  you 
think  happened?  Why,  most  unfortunately, 
the  penny  slipped  out  of  his  fingers,  fell  upon 
the  floor,  rolled  down  .a  dark  crack  between  the 
boards,  and  was  lost !  Jack  looked  after  it  with 
a  most  woful  face,  and  when  he  and  Mrs.  Giles 
had  both  searched  in  vain,  and  it  could  not  be 
gotten  out  of  the  crack,  Jack  felt  pretty  badly, 
as  you  may  think.  He  was  a  brave  boy,  how- 
ever, and  did  not  cry  for  trifles,  as  many  children 
do,  but  as  he  came  out  of  the  shop,  and  walked 
slowly  back  towards  home,  he  could  not  help 
shedding  a  few  tears.  Well,  he  had  got  almost 
home,  when  he  heard  somebody  running  behind 
him,  and  a  little  voice  calling  out,  "  Jacky  Jones, 
Jacky  Jones !"  and  turning  round  he  saw  Mrs. 
Giles'  little  daughter  with  the  tin  trumpet  in  her 
hand. 

"  Here.  Jackey,"  said  she,  "  my  mother  sends 


88  THE   BROKEN   WINDOW. 


you  this  trumpet,  because  she  felt  so  sorry  that 
you  lost  the  penny  under  our  shop." 

Jack  took  the  nice  present  of  good  Mrs.  Giles, 
with  a  smiling  face,  and  thanked  the  little  girl ; 
and  then  he  trudged  on  to  his  own  house,  in  ex- 
cellent spirits,  blowing  as  loud  as  he  could  upon 
his  tin  trumpet. 

Just  as  Arthur  finished  the  story,  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray's girl  came  to  call  William  home,  and  though 
he  was  greatly  amused  with  Mary's  paint-box, 
and  liked  to  hear  Arthur  read,  he  was  obliged 
to  go. 


TUB   wnon-i. 


VII. 

^     SttiT    f vt    tfvft    ?l7fr n  n'fi  a 

&  &  diJ  *i»  i|]£   iUi*00wi»« 

BS.  N  eland  had  promised  the  children 
for  some  time,  to  take  them  to  spend  a 
day  in  the  woods,  but  somehow  or 
other  it  had  never  been  convenient  for 
her  to  do  so.  One  bright  morning, 
however,  about  the  beginning  of  September,  she 
told  Arthur  she  would  go ;  and  that  he  might 
put  on  a  pair  of  stout  shoes,  and  get  a  pair  for 
Mary  also,  out  of  the  shoe  closet,  while  she  fin- 
ished washing  the  breakfast  cups,  and  then  they 
would  set  out  on  their  walk. 

"  Shall  we  stay  all  day,  mother?"  asked  Mary. 
"  Until  four  o'clock,  I  think,"  replied  Mrs.  No- 
land. 

"  And  what  shall  we  do  for  our  dinner  ?" 
"  I  will  take  care  of  that,"  said  her  mother, 
smiling. 

8*  (89) 


90  A  DAY  IN  THE   WOODS. 


So  Mrs.  Neland  finished  all  she  had  to  do 
within  doors,  and  then  she  went  into  the  pantry 
and  began  to  fill  a  basket  with  some  good  things 
for  their  dinner.  Mary  went  into  the  pantry 
too,  and  saw  her  mother  put  some  bread  and 
butter  into  the  basket,  and  some  very  nice  cake, 
and  a  small  bowl  of  custard,  and  some  tea- 
spoons, and  cover  it  all  over  very  carefully  with 
a  clean  napkin  ;  and  then  she  said,  "  I  wonder, 
Mary,  if  Kitty  Coleman  would  not  like  to  go 
with  us  to-day  ?  Suppose  you  were  to  run  and 
ask  Mrs.  Coleman  if  she  may  go." 

Mary  tied  on  her  sun-bonnet  and  ran  off  in 
great  glee,  and  was  made  quite  happy  by  hear- 
ing Mrs.  Coleman  say,  that  Kitty  should  go  with 
pleasure,  if  they  could  wait  till  she  had  put  on  a 
clean  frock.  Mary  promised  they  would  call  at 
the  door  for  her  as  they  went  by,  and  then  ran 
home  again  to  tell  her  mother.  Arthur  was  sit- 
ting on  the  door-step  with  the  basket  beside  him, 
and  Mrs.  Iceland's  parasol  in  his  hand,  waiting 
for  her  to  come  out.  He  was  getting  a  little  im- 
patient. 


A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS.  91 


"  Mary,  please  ask  mother  to  hurry,  won't 
you?"  ' 

"  She  will  be  ready  in  time,"  replied  Mary,  as 
she  ran  past  him. 

"  But  it  will  soon  be  so  hot,"  said  Arthur,  "  if 
we  do  not  make  haste."  And  he  got  up  and 
walked  about  the  porch,  and  called  little  Frisk 
the  dog,  and  played  with  him  awhile,  so  as  to 
shorten  the  time.  In  about  fifteen  minutes  his 
mother  and  Mary  came  down  stairs,  and  they 
set  off.  Arthur  wanted  to  take  Frisk  with  them, 
and  Frisk  wanted  to  go,  too  ;  but  Mrs.  Neland 
said  she  was  afraid  he  would  be  troublesome,  so 
they  sent  him  back,  and  shut  the  gate. 

"  There  is  Kitty,  quite  ready  for  us !  "  ex- 
claimed Mary,  as  they  came  out,  and  Kitty  ran 
down  the  steps  and  joined  them.  Mrs.  Coleman 
was  standing  at  the  door,  and  they  stopped  to 
speak  to  her. 

"  I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  walk,"  said 
Mrs.  Coleman.  "  It  is  a  lovely  day.  Kitty,  dear, 
you  will  be  a  good  girl." 

"She  is  always  good,"  said  Mrs.  Neland.  ""We 


92  A   DAY   IN  THE   WOODS. 


shall  be  at  home  between  four  and  five  o'clock 
this  afternoon.  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  called  out  all  the  children,  and 
they  started  off  in  fine  spirits.  Kitty  had  a  little 
basket  in  her  hand,  in  which,  she  said,  her 
mother  had  put  some  cold  chicken  and  raspberry 
pie,  to  add  to  the  dinner. 

"That  will  be  very  nice,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 
"  And  now  let  us  turn  down  this  street  till  we 
come  to  the  lane,  and  then  I  will  take  the  bas- 
kets, and  you  little  folks  can  have  a  nice  run." 

So  they  walked  on,  Arthur  close  by  the  side 
of  his  mother,  and  Mary  and  Kitty  hand  in  hand, 
before  them.  Pretty  soon  they  came  to  the  lane. 
"  Now  for  a  good  race,"  said  Arthur.  "  Take 
care  you  don't  fall,"  cried  Mrs.  Neland,  as  they 
all  started,  while  their  mother  walked  along, 
more  slowly.  By  and  by  they  came  to  a 
beautiful  tree,  with  wide-spreading  branches,  and 
sat  down  on  a  large  stone  beneath  it  to  rest 
themselves,  and  wait  for  Mrs.  Neland. 

While  they  sat  there  they  looked  down  the 
lane,  and  presently  Arthur  called  out,  "  See  that 


A   DAY   IN   THE   WOODS. 


dog  running  towards  us — it  looks  just  like 
Frisk!" 

"  I  do  believe  it  is  Frisk,"  said  Mary.  "  He 
wanted  to  go  with  us,  poor  fellow  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  Frisk,  I  do  declare.  See  how  he 
jumps  upon  mother,  and  here  he  comes,  as  fast 
as  his  legs  can  carry  him." 

In  a  minute  the  dog  was  beside  them,  wagging 
his  tail,  jumping  up  to  lick  Arthur's  face,  and 
trying  to  show  how  glad  he  was. 

"  Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow,  good  dog !  "  said 
Arthur.  "You  couldn't  stay  at  home — could 
you,  Frisk  ?  " 

"  Frisk  has  been  too  sharp  for  us  this  time," 
said  Mrs.  Neland,  as  she  joined  them.  "So  we 
shall  have  to  indulge  him,  and  let  him  go  with 
us,  I  think." 

"Yes,  don't  send  him  home,  mother,"  said 
Mary.  "  I  am  sure  he  will  not  be  troublesome." 

"  Are  you  rested  now  ?  "  said  her  mother. 

"  Quite  rested,"  they  all  answered. 

"  Then  let  us  walk  on,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

So  they  walked  to  the  end  of  the  lane,  pick- 


94  A  DAY   IN  THE   WOODS. 


ing  what  flowers  they  could  find,  till  they  came 
to  a  high  gate,  which  led  into  a  beautiful,  smooth 
meadow.  The  gate  was  very  heavy,  and  Mrs. 
Neland  could  only  open  it  a  little  way,  and  they 
had  to  squeeze  through,  which  made  them  laugh, 
and  wonder  what  they  should  do  if  one  of  them 
should  stick  fast. 

They  walked  slowly  over  the  meadow,  for  the 
soft  grass  was  very  pleasant  to  their  feet.  There 
was  a  flock  of  sheep  feeding  there,  and  Kitty 
and  Mary  were  so  delighted  with  two  little 
lambs,  that  they  could  scarcely  bear  to  leave 
them.  There  was  a  horse,  too,  with  a  colt  frisk- 
ing about,  which  pleased  Arthur,  exceedingly, 
and  he  would  have  liked  to  chase  it  round  the 
meadow ;  but  this  his  mother  forbade,  as  the 
colt  was  not  his  property. 

At  the  end  of  the  meadow  they  climbed  over 
a  fence,  and  went  down  a  little  woody  pathway, 
and  crossed  a  pretty  brook  on  a  small  stone 
bridge.  There  were  plenty  of  hazel  bushes  here, 
but  the  nuts  were  not  ripe  yet  ;  so  they  did  not 
pick  them  off,  but  they  asked  their  mother  if 


A  DAY   IN  THE   WOODS.  95 


they  might  come  and  get  some,  when  the  nuts 
had  turned  brown. 

"  They  do  not  belong  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  Whose  are  they  ?  "  asked  Arthur. 

"I  believe  they  belong  to  the  person  who 
owns  the  wood  we  are  going  to,"  replied  his 
mother. 

"  To  Mr.  Trim  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  dare  say  he  will  give  us  as  many  as  we 
want,"  said  Mary. 

"  That  might  depend  upon  how  many  would 
satisfy  you,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  My  father  knows  Mr.  Trim,"  said  Kitty  ; 
"  and  if  father  asks  him,  perhaps  he  will  let  us 
come  here  and  get  some." 

"  Oh !  look,  look !  "  cried  Arthur,  who  had 
gone  on  a  little  before  them,  with  Frisk.  "  See 
that  squirrel ! " 

The  girls  looked,  and  saw  a  pretty  grey 
squirrel,  running  up  a  tree,  till  he  had  near- 
ly reached  the  top,  and  then  suddenly  disap- 
pear. 


96  A  DAY   IN  THE  WOODS. 


"I  suppose  his  nest  is  in  that  tree,7'  said  Mrs. 
Neland. 

"  He  looks  like  one  of  those  squirrels  we 
read  about  one  day,  on  the  piazza,"  said  Kitty. 
"Don't  you  remember?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary.  "  In  the  story  of  '  The  Gen- 
erous Little  Squirrel.'  I  wonder  what  his  name 
is?" 

"Bushy-tail,  perhaps,"  said  Arthur. 

"Nimble-foot,  I  should  think,  by  the  way  he 
goes  up  the  tree,"  said  his  mother. 

"  There  he  is  again,"  cried  Mary.  "  See  how 
he  peeps  down  at  us  from  his  high  house !  " 

"  Come  down,  little  Nimble-foot,  come  down," 
called  Kitty,  as  they  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  and  looked  up. 

But  Nimble-foot,  or  Soft-skin,  or  whatever  his 
name  was,  paid  no  attention  to  Kitty's  kind  invi- 
tation. He  ran  about  on  the  top-most  boughs, 
or  sat  upon  his  hind  legs,  and  ate  something 
which  he  held  in  his  paws ;  and  did  not  seem  to 
care  at  all  for  the  little  folks  below  him. 

"  Ah !    he  is  a  cunning  fellow,"  said  Mrs. 


A   DAY   IX   THE    WOODS.  97 


Neland.  "  He  knows  he  is  safest  up  in  his  sky- 
parlor." 

"  How  I  should  like  to  catch  him,"  said  Mary. 
"  He  would  be  such  a  dear  little  pet." 

"He  would  bite,"  said  Kitty. 

"  We  might  tame  him,"  said  Arthur,  as  they 
walked  on,  following  the  little  brook.  It  was  a 
pretty  little  stream,  and  there  were  so  many 
birds  flying  about  among  the  bushes,  that  Mrs. 
Neland  said  it  reminded  her  of  a  short  story 
which  she  knew,  and  if  they  liked,  she  would 
repeat  it  to  them,  as  they  went  up  the  hill ;  for 
they  had  to  leave  the  pleasant  path  they  were  in, 
and  go  up  to  the  high  ground  before  them,  from 
which  they  would  see  Mr.  Trim's  wood. 

The  children  all  said  they  would  like  to  hear 
it, — so  Mrs.  Neland  began  :— 

"Cfce  $rook  attb  tire  Sparrofo. 

A  FABLE. 

"  Oh,  whither  so  fast,  my  Lady  Brook, 

Oh,  whither  so  fast  to-day  ? 
Tarry  awhile  from  your  onward  dance, 
And  peep  out  here  with  your  merry  glance, 
9 


98  A   DAY   IN   THE   WOODS. 


To  chat  with  a  friend  I  pray." 
And  the  Brook  made  answer — "  I  cannot  stay, 

Sweet  Sparrow,  to  prate  with  you, 
For  the  morning  hours  are  flitting  away, 

And  I  have  my  tasks  to  do." 

"  And  what  may  your  work  be,  Lady  Brook, 

That  you  cannot  stop  to  day? 
Babbling  over  the  stones  you  go, 
And  a  noisy  tongue  you  have,  I  trow — 

But  what  are  your  tasks,  I  pray  ? 
Nothing,  I  ween,  but  an  idle  song 

To  sing  as  you  wander  by — 
Nothing,  I  ween,  but  to  catch  the  gleam 

Of  the  sun  in  the  deep  blue  sky — 
Nothing,  but  dimple  and  flirt  with  the  bee, 

Or  the  yellow  butterfly." 

"  Friend  Sparrow,"  replied  the  little  Brook, 

Mine  are  but  humble  tasks — 
Yet  a  willing  step,  and  a  cheerful  look, 

My  great  Employer  asks, 
And  gladly  I  fulfil  them  all, 

Simple  although  they  be, 
And  I  sing,  for  the  very  joy  of  my  heart, 

To  the  butterfly  and  the  bee." 

"  And  what  are  these  wondrous  tasks,  I  pray  ?  " 

Quoth  the  Sparrow,  in  disdain ; 
And  she  laughed  outright,  while  the  little  Brook 

Made  answer  yet  again : — 


A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS.  99 


"  I  bathe  the  roots  of  the  willow  trees, 

Beneath  whose  boughs  I  pass — • 
And  the  hazel  bush,  and  the  alders  low, 
And  freshen  the  meadows  through  which  I  flow, 

And  strengthen  the  tender  grass. 
The  sweet  wild-flowers  would  droop  and  die, 

If  not  for  my  nursing  care ; 
And  on  my  marge  is  the  greenest  moss 

That  groweth  anywhere. 

"  The  birds  alight  at  the  morning's  prime, 

To  plash  in  my  cooling  breast — 
And  the  weary  oxen  come  down  to  drink, 

At  the  noon-day  hour  of  rest — 
And  the  lowing  kine  from  the  meadows  come, 

And  I  give  them  a  draught  so  clear, 
You  may  believe  they  are  loth  to  leave 

A  fount  of  such  dainty  cheer. 

"  Simple  indeed,  friend  Sparrow,  I  know, 

Are  the  tasks  that  I  fulfil — 
Yet  methinks  the  humblest  work  should  be 

Performed  with  an  earnest  witt, — 
It  giveth  a  feeling  of  such  content, 

To  do  in  all  things  our  best. 
But  now  I  must  bid  you  a  kind  good-day." 
Then  the  Rivulet  hastened  on  its  way, 
And  the  Sparrow,  with  nothing  else  to  say, 

Flew  back  again  to  her  nest, — • 
We  may  hope,  a  wiser  and  better  bird, 
From  the  useful  lesson  she  had  heard. 


100  A  DAY  IN   THE   WOODS. 


By  the  time  Mrs.  Neland  had  finished  her 
story,  they  had  nearly  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  Arthur  was  just  saying  that  he  liked 
the  fable,  and  what  tiresome  work  it  was  to 
climb  a  hill,  when  his  mother  said,  "  Why, 
Arthur,  what  have  you  done  with  the  basket  ?  " 

Arthur  turned  about,  and  looked  rather  fright- 
ened. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  you  have  not  lost  our  nice  din- 
ner ! "  cried  Mary. 

"I  must  have  left  it  at  the  foot  of  the  hill," 
said  Arthur.  "  I  set  it  down  a  moment  to  cut 
this  stick,  and  forgot  it." 

"  Then  run  back  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  get 
it,"  said  his  mother.  "You  will  be  hungry 
enough  by  noon." 

"Dear  me,  what  a  plague  it  is,"  said  Arthur, 
as  he  ran  down  the  hill.  He  found  the  basket 
just  where  he  had  left  it,  and  came  back  panting 
and  puffing. 

"  It  was  a  lucky  thing  I  missed  it  so  soon," 
said  Mrs.  Neland,  "  or  you  might  have  had  a 
longer  walk.  Now  you  may  go  and  sit  down 


A  DAY  IN  THE   WOODS.  101 


ander  this  nut-tree,  and  look  at  the  fine  prospect 
while  you  rest  a  few  minutes.1' 

So  the  children  sat  down,  and  began  to  look 
about  them,  and  were  quite  surprised  to  find 
how  far  they  could  see.  Mrs.  Neland  pointed 
out  the  wood  they  were  going  to,  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  off;  and  looking  back,  they  saw 
the  village  in  which  they  all  lived,  and  far  away 
in  the  distance  they  had  a  glimpse  of  the  river 
and  some  blue  hills. 

"Now  when  you  are  quite  rested,"  said'  Mrs. 
Neland,  "  we  will  go  down  this  hill,  and  then 
turn  into  that  road  by  the  white  house,  and  go 
straight  on  a  little,  till  we  come  to  the  wood." 

"  Oh !  I  see  a  sail,"  cried  Arthur,  starting  from 
his  seat,  and  pointing  toward  the  river.  "A 
boat !  a  boat !  " 

"  Oh,  what  a  tiny  boat,"  said  Mary.  "  Look, 
Kitty,  quick — it  is  passing  out  of  sight !  " 

"I  wish  we  could  see  the  river  from  our 
house,"  said  Arthur.     "I  do  so  love  to  watch 
the  boats.     Could  you  take  us  to  the  river,  some 
day,  mother?  " 
9* 


102  A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS. 


"I  carii promise  to  do  so,  my  dear,"  replied 
Mrs.  Neland,  "  but  perhaps  I  may.  Come,  let 
us  walk  on  now,  and  I  will  carry  the  basket. 
It  is  nearly  eleven  o'clock." 

"  You  and  Kitty  be  my  horses,"  said  Arthur 
to  his  sister.  So  the  girls  took  hold  of  one  end  of 
his  stick,  and  Arthur  held  the  other,  and  they 
trotted  off  down  the  hill  like  two  little  ponies. 
When  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  they 
waited  for  Mrs.  Neland  to  join  them,  and  then 
went  on  to  the  turn  of  the  road,  by  the  white 
house.  They  were  passing  the  house  very 
quietly,  when  suddenly  a  large  black  dog 
jumped  over  the  fence,  and,  rushing  upon  poor 
little  Frisk,  began  barking  in  a  furious  manner. 
Mary  and  Kitty  both  screamed  in  affright,  and 
ran  close  to  Mrs.  Neland,  who  tried  to  drive  away 
the  dog,  while  Arthur  threw  stones  at  him,  and 
called  out  as  loud  as  he  could — "  Out  sir,  out 
sir."  Frisk  looked  very  fierce,  and  barked  and 
snarled  quite  bravely  ;  but  I  fear  the  black  dog, 
being  so  much  larger,  would  have  given  him  a 
terrible  shaking,  if  Mrs.  Trim  herself  had  not 


A  DAY   IN  THE   WOODS.  103 


come  from  the  house  with  a  broom  in  her  hand, 
and  calling  off  the  big  dog,  gave  him  a  whack 
with  the  broom,  to  teach  him  better  manners,  and 
sent  him  into  the  house  looking  rather  ashamed 
of  himself. 

Mrs.  Neland  stopped  to  thank  her.  She  said 
the  dog  was  a  good-for-nothing  fellow,  and 
always  tried  to  get  into  a  fight  if  he  could. 
"  We  chain  him  up  almost  every  morning," 
said  she,  "  and  let  him  loose  at  night ;  but  I 
was  busy  churning  to-day,  and  forgot  it,  till  I 
heard  him  bark,  and  the  little  girls  screaming." 

"/  was  not  frightened,"  said  Arthur,  rather 
proudly;  "it  was  Mary  and  Kitty  who  scream- 
ed." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  suppose  it  was  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Trim,  laughing ;  "  boys  don't  cry  at  the  sight  of 
a  dog." 

"  I  thought  he  was  going  to  kill  Frisk,"  said 
Mary. 

"  Frisk  would  have  had  the  worst  of  it,  I 
guess,"  said  Mrs.  Trim,  "for  our  Watch  is  such 
a  strong  creature." 


104  A  DAY   IN  THE  WOODS. 


"  I  hope  lie  won't  come  out  again  as  we  are 
coming  back,"  said  Kitty,  who  was  still  trem- 
bling. "Do  you  think  he  will,  ma'am ?" 

"  No,  no,  I'll  chain  him  this  minute,"  said 
Mrs.  Trim  ;  "so  don't  be  afraid,  my  dear.  You 
are  Mr.  Coleman's  little  girl,  aren't  you?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,""  replied  Kitty ;  "  and  I  am  go- 
ing with  Mrs.  Neland  and  Arthur  and  Mary,  to 
play  in  the  wood  till  afternoon." 

"  Mr.  Neland  asked  leave  of  Mr.  Trim,  last 
week,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  Oh,  you  are  quite  welcome  to  stay  as  long  as 
you  like,"  replied  Mrs.  Trim.  "  I  go  there  my- 
self, sometimes,  it  is  so  pleasant  and  shady  in 
hot  weather.  But  won't  you  come  in,  Mrs.  Ne- 
land,  and  take  a  drink  of  nice  fresh  buttermilk 
before  you  go  on?  I've  just  finished  my  churn- 
ing." 

"I'm  very  thirsty,"  said  Arthur,  looking  at  his 
mother. 

"Are  you?"  said  Mrs.  Neland;  "well,  then, 
as  Mrs.  Trim  is  so  kind,  you  may  go  in." 

"  But  that  big  dog,"  whispered  Kitty,  taking 


A  DAY   IN   THE   WOODS.  105 


hold  of  Mrs.  Neland's  dress,  as  Mrs.  Trim  opened 
the  gate, — "I'm  so  afraid  of  him." 

'  He  won't  touch,  you,  my  dear,  when  I  am 
by  "said  Mrs.  Trim.  "He  knows  what  he  is 
about,  I  can  tell  you.  See  how  he  sneaks  away, 
when  I  shake  my  broom  at  him  I" 

Mrs.  Neland  would  not  let  Frisk  come  through 
the  gate,  lest  he  should  be  troublesome,  and 
Kitty  felt  quite  comforted  at  the  sight  of  Watch, 
trotting  off  to  the  barn  very  quietly.  Kind  Mrs. 
Trim  led  them  to  her  neat  kitchen  door,  and 
gave  them  all  a  tumbler  of  buttermilk,  which 
they  thought  very  nice  and  refreshing ;  and 
then  they  started  once  more  for  the  wood,  aftei 
thanking  Mrs.  Trim  for  her  kindness  and  hospi- 
tality. 

The  remainder  of  their  walk  was  through  a 
pretty  country  road,  with  a  green  pathway  on 
one  side  for  the  people  who  travelled  on  foot, 
and  where  Arthur  and  the  little  girls  walked, 
one  by  one.  Presently  they  came  to  a  pair  of 
high  bars,  and  Mrs.  Neland  said  that  was  the 
entrance  to  the  wood.  She  told  Arthur  sho 


106  A  DAY  IN   THE   WOODS. 


would  help  him  to  put  down  two  or  three  of 
the  lower  bars,  that  they  might  creep  through, 
as  neither  the  girls  nor  herself  could  climb  them, 
though  it  would  be  easy  enough  for  a  boy  to  do 
so.  Arthur  said  he  thought  he  could  put  them 
down  without  help,  and  his  mother  told  him  to 
try.  So  he  tried,  and  tried  very  manfully,  and 
soon  succeeded  in  getting  down  the  ends  of  three 
bars ;  and  Mrs.  Neland  and  Mary  and  Kitty 
stooped  down,  and  crept  through  into  the  woody 
ground  on  the  other  side.  Then  Arthur  tried 
to  replace  the  bars  again,  as  he  had  found  them  ; 
but  they  were  so  heavy  that  he  was  unable  to 
do  it  alone,  and  his  mother  had  to  go  to  his  as- 
sistance. When  they  were  all  fixed  in  their 
places,  then  Arthur  climbed  over  them  himself, 
and  jumping  down,  cried  out, — 

"  Hurrah !  hurrah !  here  we  are  in  the  wood, 
at  last." 

"  Why,  this  is  not  like  a  wood,"  said  Mary ; 
"  the  trees  are  not  thick  enough." 

"They  stand  closer  together  as  we  go  on," 
said  her  mother.  "  Here  is  a  foot-path  ;  let  us 


A  DAY   IN  THE  WOODS.  107 


follow  it,  and  we  shall  soon  come  to  the  thick 
trees." 

"I  am  so  warm,"  said  Kitty,  taking  off  her 
sun-bonnet  to  fan  herself.  "  Don't  you  feel  so, 
Mary?" 

"  Yes,  pretty  warm,  not  very"  answered  Mary. 
"  See,  here  we  are  getting  into  the  wood,  and 
then  we  shall  be  cool  enough." 

"  Mother,"  cried  Arthur,  running  on  before 
them,  and  stopping  suddenly  at  the  edge  of  a 
little  glen,  which  lay  between  them  and  the 
thicker  part  of  the  wood,  "  here  is  a  brook  ;  we 
must  cross  it,  I  suppose ;  there  is  a  plank  thrown 
over  it." 

"  This  is  the  same  brook  we  saw  before,"  re- 
plied his  mother.  "  There  is  a  spring  of  water 
up  among  the  trees  on  the  other  side,  and  I  fancy 
that  the  people  in  this  neighborhood  come  here 
sometimes  to  get  it,  for  the  path  seems  to  be  well 
worn." 

"Let  us  find  the  spring  first,"  said  Arthur; 
"  it  will  be  a  capital  place  to  dine." 

"  But  we  must  find  a  rock  for  the  table,"  cried 
6 


108  A   DAY   IN   THE    WOODS. 


Mary  and  Kitty.  "  A  nice  smooth  rock,"  said 
Mary,  where  the  plates  won't  slip  off." 

"  Certainly,"  said  her  mother,  smiling.  "  We 
must  try  to  find  the  one  which  the  fairies  sup 
from,  when  they  come  to  frolic  here  in  the  moon- 
light." 

"  How  I  do  wish  there  were  really  such  things 
as  fairies,"  said  Arthur,  as  they  crossed  the  little 
brook,  one  by  one,  and  walked  up  among  the 
trees.  "  It  would  be  such  fun  to  watch  for  them, 
and  see  them  dance.  "Which  way  is  the  spring, 
mother  ?  I  want  to  find  that,  the  first  thing." 

The  wood  was  quite  free  from  what  is  called 
underbrush — that  is,  wild  tangled  bushes  and 
vines,  which  often  grow  beneath  the  tall  trees. 
Mr.  Trim  had  cut  them  all  away,  only  leav- 
ing the  young  trees  and  saplings,  which  he 
wanted  to  grow  into  timber.  So  the  children 
had  no  difficulty  in  following  the  path,  and  Mrs. 
JSTeland  soon  brought  them  to  a  small  cluster  of 
young  oaks,  at  the  foot  of  which  there  lay,  in  a 
small  basin,  the  spring  of  water  they  wanted  to 
see. 


A  DAY  IN   THE  WOODS.  109 


"  I  want  a  drink  of  it,"  said  Mary.  "How 
shall  we  get  some  ?" 

"Make  a  leaf  cup,"  said  Arthur.  "Or,  I'll 
take  some  in  my  hand,  this  way,  and  drink  it  so." 

"  But  I  shall  wet  my  dress,"  said  Kitty,  as  she 
tried  to  follow  Arthur's  example. 

"  See  here,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  opening  her 
basket.  "  I  brought  Mary's  china  mug  with  our 
dinner,  because  I  knew  we  should  come  to  this 
spot,  and  perhaps  be  very  thirsty.  Come,  Ar- 
thur, you  must  be  our  little  gentleman,  and  dip 
us  each  a  cup  of  water." 

Arthur  did  so. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "  I  shgll  sit 
down  on  this  smooth  rock,  and  read  a  book 
which  I  have  in  my  pocket,  and  you  may  go  and 
amuse  yourselves  as  you  like,  till  dinner  time. 
But  don't  go  too  far  off,  or  you  may  get  lost  in 
the  wood." 

"We  shall  take  good  care  of  that,"  said  Mary, 
and  they  ran  off. 

For  a  long  time  the  children  enjoyed  them- 
selves, running  about  among  the  trees,  picking 
10 


110  A  DAY  IN   THE  WOODS. 


the  tiiiy  white  flowers,  and  playing  hide  and 
seek.  They  chased  the  large  toads  that  were 
hopping  over  the  ground,  and  once  Arthur 
thought  he  had  caught  one ;  but  the  toad  was 
too  spry,  and  soon  got  out  of  his  reach.  Then, 
Mary  spied  something  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  which 
proved  to  be  an  empty  nest.  She  was  quite  dis- 
appointed because  there  were  no  eggs  in  it,  but 
Arthur  told  her  the  young  birds  had  been 
hatched  in  it  long  before,  and  had  flown  away. 
"While  they  were  looking  at  the  nest,  a  bird  flew 
over  their  heads,  and  alighted  on.  the  bough 
above.  Kitty  said  she  was  sure  it  was  the 
bird  who  had  built  the  nest,  and  that  he  must 
feel  very  sorry  to  find  it  gone.  So  she  called 
out, — 

"  Pretty  Birdie,  here  is  your  nest !  we  don't 
mean  to  destroy  it,  Mister  Birdie,  we  are  only 
looking  at  it."  But  Mister  Birdie  did  not  seem 
to  care  a  jot  about  it  now;  he  just  whistled  a 
few  low  notes,  and  then  stretched  his  wings  and 
flew  away  far  beyond  the  wood.  Perhaps  he 
was  looking  for  his  wife,  to  ask  her  what  she 


A  DAY  IN"  THE  WOODS.  Ill 


thought  of  taking  a  journey  to  the  South,  where 
the  cold  Winter  would  not  come. 

Whichever  way  he  went,  the  children  did  not 
watch  him  long,  for  they  heard  Mrs.  Neland 
calling  them,  and  scampered  off  at  once  to  see 
if  their  dinner  was  ready.  Ready  it  was,  sure 
enough,  and  they  clapped  their  hands  and  laugh- 
ed joyfully  when  they  saw  it,  for  Mrs.  Neland 
had  laid  out  their  feast  on  a  large  flat  rock, 
spreading  a  napkin  on  it  first,  to  make  it  look 
like  a  dinner-table ;  and  there  was  the  chicken, 
and  the  custard,  and  the  cake,  and  the  raspberry 
pie,  and  the  bread  and  butter,  all  in  order,  and 
the  clear  sweet  spring  of  water  close  by  ;  and 
though  they  had  all  those  things  very  often  at 
home,  yet  Arthur  and  the  little  girls  declared 
they  had  never  tasted  anything  so  nice  before, 
and  said  they  would  like  to  dine  under  the  trees 
every  day. 

They  were  all  very  hungry,  for  they  had  taken 
a  long  walk  and  had  a  deal  of  play  beside,  and 
so  they  soon  cleared  the  table  of  all  the  good 
things.  Everybody,  however,  had  enough ;  and 


112  A   DAY   IN  THE   WOODS. 


indeed,  Arthur  complained  that  he  had  eaten  too 
much,  and  could  not  play  again  immediately 
His  mother  said  she  was  sorry  to  hear  him  say 
so,  for  it  sounded  as  if  he  were  a  glutton,  and 
did  not  know  when  he  had  enough  ;  but  as  he 
was  not  ready  for  play,  they  would  pack  the 
plates  and  napkins  into  the  baskets  again,  and 
they  could  sit  down  on  the  rocks  while  she  told 
them  a  story. 

"  Oh  !  that  will  be  capital,"  cried  Arthur. 

"  What  shall  it  be  ?"  asked  his  mother. 

"  Anything  you  like,  mother,"  said  Mary. 

"I  like  fairy  tales,"  said  little  Kitty. 

"  A  fairy  tale !  a  fairy  tale !  Oh,  mother,  do  tell 
us  a  fairy  tale,"  cried  Arthur  and  Mary. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  remember  one," 
said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  Do  try,  mother,  do  try,"  cried  all  the  children, 
and  so  Mrs.  Neland,  after  stopping  to  consider  a 
few  minutes,  said  she  would  tell  them  the  story 
of 


A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS.  113 


®ije  <fairg  Conteitta. 

Once  on  a  time,  in  the  happy  days  of  the  fair- 
ies, there  lived  an  old  couple  in  a  little  cottage 
by  the  side  of  a  public  road.  They  kept  the 
toll-gate,  and  a  young  lad  lived  with  them  who 
was  their  grandson.  Now  it  happened,  one  day, 
that  little  Hans  was  sitting  by  his  grandfather's 
door,  watching  all  the  fine  carriages  and  horse- 
men who  went  by  on  the  public  road.  First, 
there  came  along  an  elegant  coach  and  six,  with 
footmen  and  out-riders,  and  Hans  said  to  him- 
self,— "  Ah,  I  wish  I  had  a  coach  and  six :  what 
an  unlucky  boy  I  am,  for  I  have  nothing  to 
carry  me  but  my  legs,  and  I  live  in  a  poor  cot- 
tage with  my  grandmother,  and  have  to  open 
the  gate  all  day." 

Pretty  soon  a  horseman  came  galloping  along 
on  a  fine  prancing  steed,  with  a  beautiful  arching 
neck,  and  a  long  flowing  tail,  and  Hans  said  to 
himself, — "  I  wish  I  was  a  horseman,  with  such 
a  noble  steed  to  ride  on ;  but  I'm  nothing  but 
10* 


114  A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS. 


poor  little  Hans,  with  only  my  legs  to  carry  me, 
and  I  have  to  live  in  the  cottage  with  my  grand- 
mother, and  open  the  gate  all  day." 

Here  Mary  interrupted  her  mother,  to  ask 
what  a  toll-gate  was ;  and  Mrs.  ISTeland  told  her 
it  was  a  place  where  people  who  travelled  on  a 
public  road  were  obliged  to  pay  something  to 
the  people  who  kept  the  road  in  good  order. 
Then  she  went  on  with  her  story. 

By  and  by  there  came  two  gentlemen  in  a 
gig,  with  a  fine  grey  horse,  riding  as  fast  as  they 
could  go ;  and  they  told  Hans  to  make  haste  and 
open  the  gate,  for  they  were  in  a  terrible  hurry. 
"Ah,"  said  Hans  to  himself,  as  they  drove 
through,  "what  an  unlucky  fellow  I  am;  I  wish 
I  had  a  gig  with  a  grey  horse,  and  could  ride  as 
they  do ;  but  I'm  only  little  Hans,  with  nothing 
but  my  slim  legs  to  carry  me,  and  I  have  to  wait 
here  all  day,  and  open  the  gate." 

Hans  sat  there  a  long  time,  and  opened  the 
gate  for  a  great  many  people ;  and  every  time  he 
did  so,  he  wished  he  was  the  person  just  going 
through.  At  last  there  came  hobbling  up  to  the 


A  DAY  IN  THE   WOODS.  115 


gate  an  old  woman  in  a  red  cloak,  with  a  pipe 
in  her  mouth  and  a  basket  in  her  hand. 

"  Here,  you  youngster,  open  the  gate  for  me, 
just  this  minute, — do  you  hear?"  cried  the  old 
woman,  screaming  to  Hans  through  the  bars. 

"I  guess  I  ought  to  hear  you,  goody,"  said 
Hans.  "  You  brawl  so  loud  the  folks  might 
know  what  you  say  ten  miles  off." 

"Shut  you  mouth,  Mr.  Jackanapes,  and  use 
you  hands  more  briskly,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  I've  got  something  in  my  basket  you  might 
like  to  get." 

"  Your  basket  won't  hold  all  I  want,"  said 
Hans.  He  opened  the  gate,  and  let  the  old 
woman  pass,  who  sat  down  by  the  road-side,  and 
slowly  opened  her  basket.  Presently  she  drew 
forth  a  pair  of  spectacles. 

"Hans,"  said  she,  "you  have  been  wishing 
for  a  great  many  things  to-day,"  shaking  her 
head  as  she  spoke. 

"How  do  you  know  my  name?"  said  Hans; 
"  I  never  saw  you  before." 

"You  wished  for  a  coach  and  six,"  said  the 


116  A  DAY   IN  THE   WOODS. 


old  woman,  looking  at  him  with  her  two  great 
staring  eyes. 

"  You  didn't  hear  me,"  said  Hans. 

"  Never  mind,  I  know  it,"  said  the  old  dame. 
"  Now  put  on  these  glasses,  and  tell  me  what 
you  see." 

Hans  laughed,  but  he  took  the  glasses  and  put 
them  on  his  nose.  As  he  looked  round,  there 
stood  close  beside  him  an  elegant  coach,  and  six 
splendid  horses  to  draw  it.  "  Get  in,"  said  the 
old  woman,  "  and  take  a  ride." 

The  footman  opened  the  coach  door,  and  Hans 
jumped  in.  But  when  he  sat  down  on  the  soft 
cushions,  he  was  no  longer  little  Hans,  but  an 
old  sick  nobleman,  so  sick  he  could  scarcely 
move,  and  his  coat,  all  covered  with  rich  trim- 
ming, was  so  heavy  and  uncomfortable,  he 
felt  as  if  his  arms  were  tied  down.  His  legs 
were  bound  up  in  flannel,  and  he  had  such  terri- 
ble pains  in  them  that  he  almost  cried  out,  so 
great  was  his  distress.  The  motion  of  the  car- 
riage hurt  him  so  much  that  he  ordered  the 
coachman  to  drive  slower,  and  said  he  wished 


A  DAY  IN   THE   WOODS.  117 


they  would  let  him  alone,  and  not  make  him 
ride  every  day. 

By  and  by  the  horses  stopped,  and  an  old 
woman,  in  a  red  cloak,  came  and  looked  in  at 
the  door. 

"And  how  does  your  lordship  feel  to-day  ?" 
said  she,  "  and  how  do  you  like  your  new  coach  ?" 

"  Hang  the  coach  !"  said  Hans ;  "  I  wish  I  was 
young  and  well,  and  could  use  my  own  legs. 
Stand  out  of  the  way,  old  woman,  and  let  these 
fellows  carry  me  into  my  house."  - 

The  footmen  lifted  him  from  the  coach,  but 
as  they  did  so  the  fairy  spectacles  fell  off  his 
nose,  and  Hans  found  himself  once  more  beside 
the  toll-gate,  with  the  old  woman  in  the  red 
cloak. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  did  you  enjoy  your  ride  ?r> 

"  What  an  awful  pain  I  had  in  my  legs,"  said 
Hans;  and  he  jumped  up  and  down,  to  be  quite 
sure  they*  were  his  own,  and  that  they  were 
entirely  well.  "  I  don't  want  a  coach  and  six, 
after  all." 

"  You  wished  for  a  prancing  steed,"  said  the 


118  A  DAY  IN  THE   WOODS. 


Fairy — for  you  must  know,  that  the  old  woman 
was  the  good  Fairy  Contenta,  who  had  come  to 
pay  Hans  a  visit.  "  Put  on  the  spectacles  again, 
and  tell  me  what  you  see." 

So  Hans  put  them  on,  and  there  was  a  fine 
prancing  steed,  sure  enough.  A  groom  stood 
beside  the  horse,  and  he  said,  "  Young  sir,  will 
you  take  a  ride  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Hans,  and  up  he 
jumped.  "  Take  care,"  said  the  groom,  "  he  is 
a  fiery  creature." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Hans,  boldly ;  "  I  can 
manage  him."  And  off  he  went  like  a  shot. 

Bless  me,  how  they  did  go.  Up  hill  and  down 
dale,  dashing  and  racing  like  wild  creatures. 
Pretty  soon  Hans  began  to  lose  his  breath,  and 
cried  out,  "  Whoa,  whoa,  stop— take  me  off — 
whoa,  whoa ;"  and  he  bounced  about,  first  on 
one  side,  then  on  the  other.  The  horse,  how- 
ever, would  not  stop,  till  by  and  by  they  came 
up  suddenly  against  a  high  wall, — the  steed 
threw  Hans  over  his  head,  the  spectacles  fell  off 
his  nose,  and  he  found  himself  lying  in  the  road 


A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS.  119 


beside  the  old  woman,  who  was  laughing 
heartily. 

"  Hang  that  horse,"  said  Hans,  as  he  picked 
himself  up.  "  I  believe  he  has  broken  my 
neck." 

"Not  quite,"  said  the  Fairy,  "but  you  have 
nearly  broken  my  spectacles." 

"  I  won't  put  them  on  my  nose  again,"  said 
Hans.  "I  don't  want  any  more  rides." 

"  Try  again,"  said  Contenta,  holding  the  glass- 
es towards  him. 

"  I  won't,"  said  Hans. 

"  Then  we  are  not  always  quite  happy,  though 
we  may  get  all  we  wish  for,"  said  the  Fairy. 

"  I'd  rather  use  my  legs,  than  ride  so,"  said 
Hans. 

"  A  boy  who  has  good  strong  legs  to  carry 
him,"  said  Contenta,  "and  good  health,  and  a 
kind  grandfather  and  grandmother  to  take  care 
of  him,  ought  to  be  contented  without  a  coach 
and  six.  Now,  Hans,  you  have  been  discontented 
to-day,  very  discontented  ;  but  my  spectacles 
have  shown  you  whata  foolish  fellow  you  are,  to 


120  A  DAY   IN  THE   WOODS. 


wish  for  that  which,  can  neither  make  you  better 
nor  happier." 

The  Fairy  then  put  the  glasses  into  her  pock- 
et, and  giving  her  basket  to  Hans,  told  him  he 
might  have  all  that  was  in  it.  Hans  peeped  in, 
and  said  it  was  empty. 

"  Empty !"  said  Contenta — "  are  you  sure  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hans,  "  there  is  not  a  thing  in 
it." 

"  Look  again,"  said  the  Fairy,  and  she  shook 
the  basket  several  times.  "Put  your  hand  in 
and  try." 

Hans  put  in  his  hand,  and  drew  forth  a  nice 
new  coat. 

"  Bless  me !  here  is  a  coat,"  said  he. 

The  Fairy  shook  the  basket  again,  and  this 
time  Hans  pulled  out  a  new  pair  of  trowsers. 

"  Bless  me !"  said  he,  "  here  are  trowsers,  too." 

"  Try  again,"  said  Contenta;  and  Hans  pulled 
out  a  new  pair  of  shoes. 

"  Try  again ;"  and  out  came  a  new  cap. 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  the  old  woman. 

"  Yes,  the  basket  is  empty,"  said  Hans. 


A   DAY   IN   THE    WOODS.  121 


The  Fairy  shook  it  violently,  and  then  putting 
in  her  own  hand,  she  brought  out  a  large  cake. 

"  Here  is  something  I  know  you  love,"  said 
she,  "  and  I  hope  you  will  have  a  nice  time  eating 
it.  So  good-bye,  Hans ;  the  next  time  you  are 
discontented,  call  for  me,  and  I  will  lend  you 
my  wonderful  spectacles." 

With  that  the  old  woman  jumped  into  the 
basket,  and  before  Hans  could  wink  his  eye,  the 
basket  had  jumped  over  the  gate  and  was  out 
of  sight.  Hans  put  on  his  new  clothes,  ate  up 
his  cake,  and  went  back  to  his  work  of  opening 
the  toll-gate,  as  happy  as  any  lord  whd  ever 
rode  in  a  coach  and  six,  and  perhaps  a  little 
happier. 

The  children  thanked  their  mother  for  the 
story,  but  Arthur  said  he  did  not  think  it  so 
pretty  as  some  she  had  told  them  before,  and  he 
wished  she  would  try  to  remember  "Little 
Prince  Marabout."  Mrs.  Neland  said  she  had 
forgotten  Prince  Marabout  entirely,  and  she 
thought  that  one  story  was  enough  at  a  time. 
11 


122  A  DAY   IN   THE   WOODS. 


So  she  took  up  her  own  book  to  read,  and  Ar- 
thur and  the  girls  went  to  play  again  under  the 
trees. 

They  played  a  number  of  pretty  plays,  and 
built  a  sort  of  summer-house  with  some  loose 
branches  which  were  scattered  about.  Then 
they  ran  up  and  down  on  a  large  log,  pretending 
it  was  a  dangerous  bridge  from  which  they  might 
fall  into  the  water  and  be  drowned.  This  was 
great  fun,  but,  unfortunately,  they  did  not  know 
that  a  hornet's  nest  was  under  the  log,  and  while 
Arthur  was  jumping  about  on  it,  in  high  glee, 
an  angry  hornet  flew  out  of  the  nest,  and  stung 
his  hand. 

It  put  him  in  great  pain,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes his  hand  was  swollen  very  much,  but  he 
tried  not  to  cry,  and  ran  to  show  it  to  his  mother. 
Mrs.  Neland  bound  some  wet  earth  on  the  place, 
and  in  a  little  while  it  felt  better,  so  that  Mary 
and  Kitty  thought  they  might  go  back  to  their 
play  again ;  but  Mrs.  Neland  looked  at  her 
watch,  and  said  it  was  time  to  be  getting  home, 
and  the  children  reluctantly  consented  to  go. 


A   DAY   IN"  THE   WOODS.  123 


Just  as  they  got  near  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
they  heard  a  chirping  in  the  grass,  and  looking 
round  them  on  the  ground,  they  saw  a  poor  bird 
trying  to  hop  out  of  their  way.  Arthur  soon 
caught  it.  "  Look,  mother,  look !"  said  he,  "  it 
cannot  fly ;  what  is  the  matter  with  it  ?" 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "  its  wing  is 
broken :  handle  it  very  carefully,  Arthur.  I 
think  we  must  take  it  home  and  nurse  it,  for  it 
will  die  if  we  leave  it  here." 

"  Oh,  do  take  it  home,"  cried  Mary  and  Kitty. 

"  I  will  carry  it,"  said  Arthur. 

But  his  mother  said  it  would  go  much  more 
safely,  if  they  put  it  into  the  smallest  basket,  on 
a  bunch  of  soft  grass ;  and  the  little  girls  ran  and 
gathered  a  few  handfuls  immediately,  and  Mrs. 
Neland  fixed  a  nice  bed,  and  put  the  sick  bird 
very  carefully  upon  it.  Frisk  seemed  rather  curi- 
ous to  know  what  was  going  on,  and  came  jump- 
ing upon  Arthur  while  he  held  the  bird,  but 
Mary  boxed  his  ears,  and  told  him  to  be  quiet ; 
and  so  he  ran  away  to  find  something  else  to 
play  with. 


124  A   DAY   IN  THE   WOODS. 


Mrs.  Neland  let  the  children  carry  the  bird  in 
turn,  and  they  walked  quite  leisurely  out  of  the 
wood.  I  believe  nothing  happened  on  their 
way  home,  of  any  consequence.  When  they 
passed  Mrs.  Trim's  house,  they  felt  a  little  afraid 
that  Watch,  the  big  black  dog,  would  bark 
again  at  little  Frisk,  but  fortunately  he  was  no- 
where to  be  seen.  Probably  Mrs.  Trim  had 
fastened  him  up  in  the  yard.  They  walked  past 
the  gate  quite  safely,  and  reached  home  in  good 
time,  very  merry,  but  rather  tired  with  their 
walk.  When  they  came  to  Mrs.  Coleman's 
door,  Kitty  kissed  them  good-bye,  and  Mary 
and  Arthur  ran  into  their  own  house,  to  put  the 
wounded  bird  to  bed  in  a  safe  place,  out  of  the 
way  of  Mrs.  Pussy,  and  to  relate  to  their  father 
all  the  events  of  their  pleasant  day  in  the  wood. 


vm. 

IsIKs. 


AM  sorry  to  say  that  Arthur  did  not  alto- 
gether like  Sunday.  He  thought  it  a  dull 
day,  and  that  going  to  church  and  listen- 
ing to  sermons,  particularly  in  warm  weath- 
er, was  rather  tiresome.  He  didn't  mind 
reading  at  home,  but  he  did  not  find  much  pleas- 
ure in  church,  unless  he  could  sit  near  a  win- 
dow and  look  out  upon  some  green  fields  be- 
yond, where  there  were  cattle  feeding,  and  a 
white  horse,  who  occasionally  kicked  up  his  legs, 
and  trotted  round  the  field,  as  if  enjoying  his 
rest  and  liberty,  and  Arthur  thought  he  should 
like  to  do  so  too.  His  mother  was  sorry  for  this, 
because  she  wished  her  dear  boy  to  think  that 
God's  day  was  the  best  of  all  the  seven,  and  to 
11*  (125) 


126  SUNDAY  TALKS. 


try  and  keep  it  holy,  without  feeling  it  was  dull 
or  melancholy.  She  always  looked  smiling  and 
cheerful  herself,  though  she  did  not  like  loud  or 
noisy  laughter  on  Sunday,  and  she  took  care 
that  everything  should  be  done,  as  far  as  possible, 
on  Saturday,  that  Margaret  and  Susan  might 
have  a  day  of  rest  too.  The  children  were  glad 
of  one  thing,  however, — for  when  Sunday  came, 
their  father  was  at  home  all  day,  and  this  they 
liked  particularly ;  for  he  read,  or  talked,  or  walk- 
ed with  them,  and  their  mother  hoped,  as  they 
grew  older  and  knew  their  duty  better,  that 
God's  good  Spirit  would  teach  them  to  love  His 
holy  day  as  much  as  she  did. 

It  so  happened,  that  the  day  after  their  ramble 
in  the  wood  Was  Sunday,  and  Arthur  was  per- 
haps rather  tired,  for  he  did  not  feel  quite  like 
getting  up,  when  his  father  came  to  call  him,  and 
Mary,  whose  little  blue  eyes  were  always  sure 
to  fly  open  at  the  first  sound,  was  quite  ready 
to  go  down  stairs  before  he  was  fairly  dressed. 
She  waited  for  him,  however,  with  her  usual 
good-nature,  and  they  ran  together  down  into 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  127 


the  dining-room,  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Neland 
were  reading,  and  Susan  was  arranging  the 
breakfast  table. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day.  The  air  was  pure  and 
sweet,  and  the  birds  were  singing  their  morning 
hymns  in  the  old  cherry-trees  by  the  door,  as  if 
they  knew  it  was  Sunday.  The  sunshine  came 
in  through  the  vines  outside  the  window,  and 
was  all  checkered  upon  the  carpet  and  white 
table-cloth,  and  reflected  upon  the  polished  urn 
that  was  hissing  upon  the  table.  Everything 
looked  calm,  quiet  and  lovely,  just  as  it  should 
have  done  on  God's  holy  day.  Arthur  and 
Mary  kissed  their  father  and  mother,  and  then 
Mrs.  Neland  rang  a  small  bell,  and  Margaret 
and  Susan  came  in  from  the  kitchen,  and  Mr. 
Neland  said  prayers.  Then  they  sat  down  to 
breakfast. 

Mr.  Neland  and  his  wife  did  not  make  Sunday 
one  of  those  seasons  when  the  children  received 
long  lectures  upon  their  duty,  and  were  obliged 
to  learn  a  certain  number  of  hymns  and  texts. 
They  thought  God  should  be  remembered  and 


128  SUNDAY  TALKS. 


served  and  obeyed  every  day  in  the  week,  and 
loved  too,  because  He  is  so  good  to  us  constant- 
ly; so  they  just  chose  some  pleasant  subject,  and 
let  the  children  talk  of  it  in  their  own  way,  till 
they  really  became  interested  in  it.  They  gen- 
erally learned  one  text,  to  repeat  at  breakfast ; 
and  this  morning,  Mary  said, — 

"  Father,  this  is  my  text, — I  learned  it  yester- 
day :  '  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  I  shall  not 
want.' " 

"That  is  a  very  sweet  text,"  said  Mr.  Neland. 
"Where  did  you  find  it,  darling?" 

"In  the  twenty-third  Psalm,"  replied  Mary. 
"  It  is  the  first  verse." 

"  My  text  is  from  the  tenth  chapter  of  St. 
John,"  said  Arthur.  "  I  am  the  Good  Shep- 
herd ;  the  Good  Shepherd  giveth  his  life  for  the 
sheep." 

"  Very  good;  but  how  did  you  and  Mary  hap- 
pen to  think  of  the  same  subject?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir, — it  was  quite  by  chance." 

"Did  you  learn  a  text,  mamma?" 

"No,  but  I  can  repeat  one;  it  is  what  our 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  129 


Saviour  said  to  Peter,  '  Feed  my  lambs ;'  and  I 
was  thinking  this  morning,"  continued  Mrs.  Ne- 
land,  that  although  shepherds  seem  to  be  in  a 
very  humble  state  in  life,  yet  we  read  of  quite 
a  number  who  came  to  stand  before  kings,  and 
lived  to  be  great  themselves." 

"  In  the  East,"  said  Mr.  Neland,  "  the  wealth 
of  the  people  consisted  mostly  of  their  flocks 
and  herds.  Abel,  we  are  told,  was  a  keeper  of 
sheep,  and  Abraham  had  many  thousands  of 
sheep  and  cattle,  beside  silver  and  gold.  Then, 
you  know,  when  Abraham  wanted  to  choose  a 
wife  for  his  son  Isaac,  he  sent  him  to  Bethuel, 
and  there  he  chose  Isaac's  cousin,  the  beautiful 
Rebecca,  who  met  him  at  the  well,  where  she 
came  with  her  father's  sheep, — for  she  kept 
them." 

"  She  was  a  shepherdess  then,"  said  Arthur ; 
"  to  think  of  the  daughter  of  a  rich  man,  tend- 
ing sheep !" 

"  It  was  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  of 
those  times,"  said  his  father ;  "  and  was  not  con- 
sidered beneath  the  daughter  of  a  rich  man. 


130  SUNDAY  TALKS. 


Rachel,  also,  the  wife  of  Jacob,  was  a  shepherd- 
ess." 

"  That  is  a  pretty  story  about  Rebecca,  isn't 
it,  father?"  said  Mary.  "She  must  have  been 
very  much  pleased  with  the  ear-rings  and  brace- 
lets, and  other  presents,  which  Abraham's  ser- 
vant gave  her." 

"  It  never  seems  to  me,"  said  Arthur,  "  as  if 
the  people  we  read  of  in  the  Bible  had  really 
lived  in  this  same  world  that  we  live  in." 

"  No,"  said  Mary  ;  "  the  Bible  stories  always 
seem  to  me  like  a  great  many  pictures  that  we 
are  looking  at." 

"Jacob  was  a  shepherd,"  said  Mrs.  Neland, 
"  and  kept  the  sheep  of  Laban,  his  father-in-law." 

"  And  Joseph,"  said  Mary,  eagerly. 

"No,  Joseph's  brethren  were,"  said  Arthur; 
"  but  you  know  he  was  but  a  boy  when  he  was 
sold  into  Egypt." 

"Not  so  fast,  Arthur,"  said  Mr.  Neland ; 
"  we  are  told  that  Joseph,  being  seventeen  years 
old,  was  feeding  the  flock  with  his  brethren ;  so 
that  his  early  years,  at  least,  were  so  employed." 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  131 


"And  Moses,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  Oh,  no,  mother !"  exclaimed  Arthur;  "  Moses 
was  the  great  law-giver,  not  a  shepherd." 

"  Why,  Arthur,  you  forget ;  what  was  Moses 
doing  when  he  saw  the  burning  bush  ?"  Arthur 
thought  a  moment. 

"  Mary,  do  you  remember  ?" 

"  Well,  he  was  in  the  wilderness,  somewhere," 
said  Mary.  "  I  know  that." 

"  Come,  papa,  you  must  tell  us." 

"  He  was  feeding  the  flock  of  Jethro,  his  fa- 
ther-in-law," said  Mr.  Neland. 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  he  was, — I  remember  now,"  said 
Arthur. 

"  He  had  not  always  been  a  shepherd,"  said 
Mr.  Neland,  "for  you  know  he  was  brought 
up  at  court,  and  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's 
daughter,  because  she  found  him  in  the  ark  of 
bulrushes." 

"  How  did  he  become  a  shepherd,  then  ?  I 
should  think  he  would  rather  have  stayed  with 
the  king." 

"  Why,   don't  you  recollect    that    Pharaoh 


132  SUNDAY   TALKS. 


sought  to  kill  him,  because  he  slew  the  Egyp- 
tian? Moses  saw  ho\v  much  the  Egyptians  op- 
pressed the  Israelites,  who  were  his  own  people, 
and  so  when  he  saw  one  of  them  striking  a 
Hebrew,  he  looked  about,  and  finding  himself 
unobserved,  he  slew  the  Egyptian  and  hid  him 
in  the  sand.  This  made  Pharaoh  very  angry; 
and  so  Moses  left  the  court,  and  all  the  royal 
things  he  had  been  accustomed  to,  and  went 
into  the  land  of  Midian,  in  order  to  escape  from 
the  angry  king." 

"  I  think  I  do  remember,  now,"  said  Arthur, 
who  was  quite  familiar  with  Bible  stories.  "  By 
accident  he  met  the  daughters  of — " 

"  Of  the  priest  of  Midian,  who  were  also 
shepherdesses,"  said  his  mother, — "  and  married 
one  of  them." 

"  And  then  he  kept  the  sheep,  I  suppose,  in- 
stead of  his  wife,"  said  Mary. 

"  Probably,"  replied  Mrs.  Neland,  "  but  not 
for  any  long  time ;  because  we  read,  that  God 
called  him  from  that  employment  to  lead  His 
chosen  people  back  to  the  promised  land." 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  133 


"Don't  you  like  that  part  of  the  Bible, 
mother ?"  said  Mary, — "about  all  the  Plagues 
in  Egypt,  and  crossing  the  Eed  Sea,  and  the 
Manna,  and  the  Quails,  and  the  Water  coming 
from  the  Rock,  and  the  Golden  Calf?  " 

"  Only  it  never  seemed  quite  right  to  me," 
said  Arthur,  "that  Moses  shouldn't  have  gone 
over  into  the  land  of  Canaan,  after  all  his  trou- 
ble with  the  people,  and  all  his  long  journey 
through  the  wilderness.  I  always  feel  very 
sorry  for  Moses  when  I  read  that." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  his  mother,  "but  God  knew 
best.  You  remember  Moses  was  unfaithful  at 
the  rock  in  the  wilderness,  when  the  people 
were  thirsty,  and  so  was  punished  for  it.  But 
I  think  we  were  talking  of  shepherds ;  suppose 
we  keep  to  that  subject,  because  both  your  texts 
refer  to  it.  I  wonder  if  we  can  recollect  any 
other  person  spoken  of  as  a  shepherd,  and  who 
afterward  became  very  great." 

The  children  tried  to  remember,  running  over 
in  their  minds  most  of  those  whom  they  had 
read  of. 

12 


134  SUNDAY  TALKS. 


"  There  were  shepherds  at  Bethlehem,  when 
our  Saviour  was  born,"  said  Mary,  doubtfully. 

"  Yes,  and  they  were  greatly  honored  in  being 
those  to  whom  the  angels  told  the  good  news," 
replied  Mrs.  Neland ;  "  but  there  was  somebody 
who  lived  long  before  that  day,  and  though  he 
became  a  great  king,  was  once  a  shepherd-boy, 
keeping  his  sheep  in  the  wilderness,  and  singing 
sweet  and  holy  songs  while  he  played  upon  his 
harp." 

"  King  David !  "  exclaimed  Arthur  and  Mary, 
at  the  same  moment.  "  To  be  sure,  we  forgot 
him." 

"I  think  you  like  the  story  of  David,"  said 
their  mother. 

"  Yes,  we  do,  very  much,"  said  Mary  ;  "  we 
both  knew  the  part  about  his  killing  the  great 
Philistine,  long  before  we  could  read  it  our- 
selves." 

"  And  all  about  Absalom,  and  Jonathan," 
said  Arthur;  " and  the  story  of  '  The  Little  Ewe 
Lamb.'  " 

"And  David  was  called  the  sweet  singer  of 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  135 


Israel,"  said  Mrs.  Neland, — "because  he  wrote 
and  sung  so  many  sweet  songs  in  praise  of 
God." 

"  He  wrote  the  book  of  Psalms,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Not  all  of  them  ;  some  were  written  by 
Asaph,  and  some  by  unknown  writers,  but  they 
are  all  called  the  Psalms  of  David.  And  we 
must  not  forget,"  said  Mr.  Neland,  "that  our 
Saviour,  as  God  had  promised,  was  descended 
from  David,  who  was  of  the  tribe  of  Judah, — 
that  i=,  His  mother,  from  whom  He  received  His 
human  nature,  was  a  descendant  of  David." 

"  And  that  David  was  a  prophet  as  well  as  a 
king,  for  he  sang  of  the  Messiah  in  some  of  his 
psalms,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  Mary's  text  is  taken  from  one  of  his  sweet- 
est," said  Mr.  Neland;  "  and  if  the  Lord  is  our 
Shepherd  and  takes  care  of  us,  we  shall  not 
want  any  good  thing." 

"And  in  Arthur's  text,  our  Saviour  calls 
Himself  the  Good  Shepherd;  and  then  tells 
Peter,  in  my  text,  to  feed  His  lambs, — so  we 
have  come  down  at  last  to  the  kindest  and  best 


136  SUNDAY   TALKS. 


Shepherd  in  our  gracious  Saviour."  Mrs.  Neland 
here  began  to  speak  of  something  else,  for  she 
saw  that  Mary's  attention  was  diverted  by  the 
little  grey  kitten,  who  came  into  the  room,  and 
began  mewing  round  the  table  for  her  accustom- 
ed breakfast  of  milk,  and  that  Arthur  had  for- 
gotten king  David  and  what  they  were  talking 
about,  in  his  eagerness  to  help  her. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  the  children  dress- 
ed themselves,  and  went  to  church  with  their 
parents.  Arthur  thought  the  walk  very  dusty, 
and  said  it  would  be  hot  enough  at  noon  when 
they  came  home.  Mary,  however,  thought  it 
quite  pleasant,  and  that  her  new  parasol  would 
protect  her  very  nicely  from  the  sun.  At 
church  they  were  tolerably  attentive,  but 
Arthur  took  a  short  nap  during  the  sermon, 
which  he  assured  his  mother  he  could  not  help ; 
and  Mary  might  have  done  the  same,  had  she 
not  been  kept  awake  by  the  misconduct  of  some 
children  in  the  next  pew. 

When  they  reached  home  again,  dinner  was 
ready,  and  our  little  friends  were  quite  hungry 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  137 


enough  to  enjoy  it,  after  their  walk, — the  church 
being  at  the  farther  end  of  the  village,  and  some 
distance  from  their  own  house.  After  dinner 
they  went  upon  the  piazza  and  sat  by  their 
father,  who  was  smoking  his  cigar,  and  read 
their  usual  chapter  for  him.  The  chapter  to-day 
was  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  and  they  read  in 
turn,  Arthur  one  verse,  and  Mary  the  next. 
Mr.  Neland  talked  to  them  about  it  for  a  little 
while,  and  then  they  walked  together  in  the 
shadiest  part  of  the  garden,  till  they  heard  the 
far  off  sound  of  the  bell,  ringing  for  the  after- 
noon service.  Arthur  did  not  go  to  sleep  this 
afternoon,  but  he  sat  pretty  still,  and  tried  to 
listen  to  the  sermon,  employing  his  fingers 
meanwhile  in  turning  his  gloves  on  the  wrong 
side,  and  drawing  and  undrawing  the  lining  of 
his  hat. 

When  church  came  out,  Mrs.  Neland  stopped 
to  speak  with  an  old  lady  at  the  door,  who  had 
been  very  sick,  and  was  at  church  for  the  first 
time  since  her  illness.  Then  Mr.  Neland  said, 
as  the  evening  was  so  pleasant  they  would  walk 
12* 


138  SUNDAY  TALKS. 


home  another  way,  which  would  be  an  agreeable 
change  for  the  children ;  so  they  turned  from  the 
main  street,  and  chose  a  quiet  green  lane, 
where  no  sound  was  heard  except  their  own 
voices,  and  a  few  low  notes  from  the  birds,  who 
were  beginning  to  think  of  going  to  bed.  The 
children  had  often  been  in  this  lane,  for  the  wild 
roses  were  always  sweetest  here  in  their  season  ; 
and  in  blackberry  time  the  berries  were  thickest 
in  the  vines  which  covered  the  fence  on  both 
sides;  but  it  seemed  particularly  pleasant  this 
evening.  Their  father  was  talking  to  them  about 
the  birds,  and  then  a  toad  hopped  across  their 
path,  and  that  was  a  new  subject  of  conversa- 
tion. Arthur  picked  up  a  beetle,  too,  with  its 
green  and  gold  wings,  and  speaking  of  that, 
led  them  to  other  insects;  and  finally  Mrs. 
Neland  mentioned  the  bee,  and  Mr.  Neland 
gave  them  an  account  of  its  industrious  life 
among  the  flowers  and  in  the  hive.  Thus  they 
sauntered  on,  the  children  asking  all  sorts  of 
questions  which  their  parents  were  most  happy 
to  answer,  and  the  green  lane  brought  them  at 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  139 


its  termination  to  a  retired  road,  rather  new  to 
them;  and  this  they  followed,  until,  crossing  a 
a  broad  field,  they  climbed  a  hill,  and  sat  down 
to  rest  upon  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree. 

"  What  a  beautiful  sunset!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Neland. 

"Beautiful,  indeed,"  replied  her  husband; 
"we  came  here  just  in  time  to  enjoy  it." 

"  See  that  purple  cloud  all  edged  with  gold," 
said  Mary.  "  Oh,  mother,  isn't  it  lovely  ?" 

"  It  seems  like  a  rich  mantle,  in  which  the 
sun  wraps  himself  as  he  goes  to  rest,"  said  her 
mother. 

"I  should  think  he  would  need  rest,  after 
such  a  journey  as  he  has  made  to-day,"  said  Mr. 
Neland. 

"  I  think  he  has  very  splendid  curtains  for 
his  bed,"  said  Arthur,  looking  at  the  sky ;  "  gold, 
and  purple,  and  crimson.  We  don't  see  the 
sunsets  very  well  from  our  house." 

"  It  would  not  be  a  very  long  walk  to  come 
here  and  see  them  occasionally,"  said  his  father. 

"And  we  should  get  more  than  the  sunset 


140  SUNDAY  TALKS. 


by  coming,"  said  Mary.  "  Isn't  there  a  pretty 
view  of  the  village  ?  I  do  really  believe  I  can 
see  our  own  chimneys !  " 

"  Or  fancy  that  you  do,  little  sharp-eye,"  said 
her  father. 

"  No,  really ;  I  really  think  I  see  them,  peep- 
ing above  those  trees." 

"  But  it  so  happens  that  our  house  does  not 
stand  in  that  direction." 

"Doesn't  it?  well,  now, father,  are  you  sure?" 

"Quite  sure, — your  must  look  for  it  this  way." 

"  Must  I  ?  there  are  plenty  of  chimneys  over 
there,  then." 

"  Certainly,  and  no  doubt  our  own  are  among 
them, — but  my  little  sharp-eye  could  scarcely 
distinguish  them  at  this  distance." 

"  Mary  often  sees  things  that  are  not  to  be 
seen,"  said  Arthur.  "  But  I  see  the  river  with- 
out mistake.  Father,  I  wish  you  would  sell  our 
place,  and  buy  one  close  by  the  river,  and  keep 
a  pleasure-boat." 

"Do  you?  Well,  we  will  talk  of  buying  and 
selling,  another  day,  Arthur.  At  present  we  will 


SUNDAY  TALKS.  141 


just  look  about  us  upon  the  wonderful  and  beau- 
tiful works  of  God;  for  that  should  be  our 
object  in  a  Sunday  walk.  See,  mamma  and 
Mary !  we  have  the  glorious  firmament  '  show- 
ing His  handy  work,'  and  the  river,  and  the 
woodlands,  and  the  green  fields,  and  the  useful 
cattle,  and  a  thousand  things  beside,  which 
ought  to  make  us  very  thankful  and  very  joy- 
ful." 

The  children  now  began  to  enumerate  the 
different  works  of  Creation,  which  came  be- 
neath their  eyes,  and  soon  found  enough  to  be 
thankful  for.  They  then  pursued  their  way, 
and,  walking  quite  leisurely,  reached  home  in 
season  for  the  nice  tea  which  Susan  had  pre- 
pared for  them,  and  which  they  particularly 
enjoyed  after  their  long  walk.  The  usual  family 
prayers  concluded  the  day,  and  then  Arthur 
and  Mary  went  to  bed. 


IX. 


morning,  when  Mrs.  Neland  and  Ar- 
thur were  returning  from  a  long  walk, 
they  met  Mrs.  Murray  and  Frederick. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Murray.  "  I  am  going  to  take  Fred  out 
with  me,  and  William  is  not  quite  well,  and 
would  like  Arthur  to  come  and  play  with  him. 
Can  he  go,  Mrs.  Neland  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  his  sister  will  be  disappointed, 
if  he  does  not  go  back  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Ne- 
land. 

"  Oh,  his  sister  may  see  him  every  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Murray,  "so  she  won't  mind,  I  fancy.  Do 
let  him  go." 

"  You  may  do  as  you  please,  Arthur,  "said  his 
mother. 

(142) 


DINING  OUT.  143 


"  Well,  ma'am,  I'll  go  then  for  awhile,"  re- 
plied Arthur. 

"  Oh,  you'll  stay  to  dinner,"  said  Mrs.  Murray. 
"  We  shall  be  at  home  by  dinner-time.  Do  let 
him  stay." 

"I  don't  like  my  little  folks  to  dine  out  very 
often,"  replied  Mrs.  Neland;  "but  if  Arthur 
wishes  it  very  much,  he  may." 

"Oh,  certainly  he  will,"  said  Mrs.  Murray; 
"Now  run  in,  Arthur,  and  play  with  William, 
that's  a  good  boy,  and  we  shall  soon  be  at  home. 
Good-bye,  Mrs.  Neland,"  and  she  and  Frederick 
walked  off  in  haste,  while  Arthur  and  his  mother 
went  on  to  Mr.  Murray's  house. 

"I  need  not  tell  you  to  behave  in  a  gentle- 
manly way,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "  for  I 
am  sure  you  will ;  and  after  dinner  come  home, 
without  my  being  at  the  trouble  to  send  for 
you." 

Arthur  promised  to  do  so,  and  ran  into  the 
house.  Will  was  lying  on  the  sofa  in  the  din- 
ing-room, and  seemed  delighted  to  see  him. 
"Now,"  said  he,  "we  can  have  a  fine  time  by 


144  DINING   OUT. 


ourselves,  for  Fred  is  out  of  the  way,  and  we 
have  nobody  to  plague  us.  See !  I've  got  a  lot 
of  blocks  here,  and  we  can  build  a  famous 
house." 

"  So  we  can,"  said  Arthur,  clapping  his  hands; 
"  that  will  be  grand  fun.  Let's  build  a  tower  ever 
so  high, — will  you?  And  here  is  the  tea-bell, — 
we  can  fasten  that  in  the  top  to  ring  for  fire." 

"  Or  a  church,"  said  William ;  "  we  might 
build  a  church  with  a  steeple,  and  hang  the  bell 
in  that." 

"Yes,  that  would  be  capital,"  said  Arthur. 
"  Get  the  blocks  quick,  and  we'll  build  it  before 
Fred  comes  home." 

William  opened  a  closet,  and  Arthur  helped 
him  to  bring  out  the  large  box  which  held  the 
blocks,  and  empty  them  on  the  carpet,  and  then 
the  boys  set  about  building  their  church,  in  high 
glee.  They  did  not,  however,  get  on  with  the 
steeple  very  well,  it  would  tumble  down  so  often ; 
and  when  at  last  they  did  get  it  up,  they  could 
not  fix  the  bell  in  it, — so  after  a  while  they  began 
to  throw  blocks  at  it. 


DINING   OUT.  145 


First,  Will  threw  a  block,  and  knocked  off 
the  top  of  the  steeple, — and  that  made  Arthur 
laugh,  and  he  threw  one,  and  knocked  off  a  lit- 
tle more;  and  so  they  went  on,  first  one,  and  then 
the  other,  till  they  demolished  the  whole  build- 
ing, and  nothing  was  left  but  a  heap  of  ruins, 
all  jumbled  together  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"Now,"  said  Arthur,  "let  us  make  a  railroad 
with  them,  all  across  the  room.  Won't  that  be 
fine,  with  bridges  here  and  there  for  the  carriages 
to  pass  over,  you  know !"  So  they  set  to  work 
and  made  the  railroad.  They  made  a  very  long 
one,  all  through  the  dining-room,  and  out  into 
the  hall ;  and  when  they  were  tired  of  that,  Mas- 
ter Will  began  to  knock  it  to  pieces  with  his 
feet,  scattering  the  blocks  all  about,  and  littering 
the  entire  carpet  with  them  in  a  shocking  man- 
ner. 

"  For  shame,  William,"  said  the  girl,  who  was 
busy  in  the  hall.  "  You  had  better  pick  them 
up  before  your  mother  comes  home." 

"  I  shall  not,"  said  Will.     "  You  come  and  do 
it, — I've  got  the  head-ache." 
13 


146  DINING   OUT. 


"No,  indeed,"  said  the  girl,  "I've  something 
else  to  do,  sir." 

"  Well,  /  won't,"  said  William,  "  and  if  you 
don't,  they  will  lay  there  till  ma  comes  in,  and 
then  you'll  catch  it,  Miss  Becky." 

Arthur  tried  to  persuade  Will  to  gather  them 
up,  and  said  he  would  pick  up  half,  but  Will 
was  obstinate,  and  so  Arthur  set  to  work  at  them 
himself,  for  he  was  really  ashamed  that  Mrs 
Murray  should  see  them ;  and  Becky,  finding  him 
trying  to  collect  so  many  alone,  at  last  came  dowr 
and  helped  him  get  them  all  into  the  box, — tell- 
ing William  he  was  the  most  selfish  child  she 
had  ever  seen,  and  she  wondered  how  Arthur 
could  think  of  playing  with  him  at  all. 

But  Will  only  laughed  at  this,  and  lay  upon 
the  sofa  kicking  up  hft  feet  while  they  were  at 
work,  and  thinking  how  nicely  he  was  saved  all 
the  trouble. 

Was  Will  doing  unto  others  as  he  would 
have  liked  them  to  do  to  him  ? 

When  the  blocks  were  put  away  in  the  closet, 
Arthur  sat  down  by  the  window  in  the  dining- 


DINING   OUT.  147 


room,  and  began  t  >  read.  He  found  a  book  of 
Fred's  on  the  table,  and  thought  he  would  read 
a  story  in  it. 

"Oh,  come,  don't  read  that  stupid  thing," 
said  William ;  "  let's  play  something." 

"  I'd  rather  read,"  said  Arthur.  "  I  like  this 
story." 

"  You  must  not,"  said  Will ;  "  you  came  here 
to  play  with  me  because  I  was  sick,  and  so  you 
must  play."  Then  he  took  the  book  very  rough- 
ly out  of  Arthur's  hand,  and  put  it  into  the 
book-case. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  play,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Arthur,  in  a  fretful  tone,  for  he  did  not  like  to 
part  with  the  book,  and  it  made  him  feel  angry. 

"  Here  are  my  Jack-straws,"  said  Will ;  and 
they  played  with  those  till  William  got  tired, 
and  wanted  to  try  something  else.  Then  he  got 
the  Backgammon  box,  and  said  he  would  teach 
Arthur  to  play  Backgammon.  But  Arthur  was 
so  dull  he  could  not  learn,  and  Wi\l  lost  his 
patience,  and  said  it  was  no  use  to  try  any 
longer ;  so  that  game  was  put  away. 


148  DIXING  OUT. 


I  don't  remember  what  they  did  afterwards, 
but  Arthur  was  very  glad  when  he  saw  Mrs. 
Murray  and  Fred  coming  through  the  gate,  and 
heard  the  bell  ring  for  dinner,  because  he  was 
very  hungry ;  and  besides,  he  wanted  to  go  home 
to  his  own  gentle  little  sister,  who  was  so  good- 
natured  and  amiable,  and  did  not  quarrel  with 
him  all  the  time,  as  these  boys  did. 

"  Tie  on  the  boys'  aprons,  Becky,"  said  Mrs. 
Murray,  as  they  sat  down  to  dinner. 

"  No,"  said  Fred,  "  I  don't  want  an  apron." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Will. 

"  William,  you  must  wear  it,"  said  his  mother ; 
"  you  will  soil  your  new  jacket." 

"  No,  I'll  be  careful — I  won't  spill  a  thing," 
said  Will,  shaking  himself  away  from  Becky. 

"Tie  it  on,  Becky,"  said  Mrs.  Murray — "he 
must  have  it."  And  Becky  put  her  strong  arm 
round  the  young  gentleman,  and  tied  on  his 
apron  in  spite  of  his  struggles. 

"Fred  hasn't  on  his,"  snarled  Will— "the 
nasty,  plaguy  thing  I  I  wish  there  wasn't  any 
aprons." 


DINING  OUT.  149 


"Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  his  mother;  "  do 
you  think  I  am  going  to  have  your  clothes  ru- 
ined, just  for  your  nonsense?  Becky,  tie  on 
Fred's." 

"Ah,  ma,  mayn't  I  go  without  mine  to-day  ?" 
whined  Fred.  "Ah,  ma,  just  this  once.  I 
won't  soil  my  jacket,  indeed  I  won't ;  mayn't  I, 
ma?" 

"Frederick,  behave  yourself.  I'm  ashamed 
of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Murray.  "  "What  must  Ar- 
thur think  of  such  boys !" 

"  Ah,  ma,  do  let  me  go  without  it,  to-day ; 
say,  ma,  won't  you  let  me,  just  this  time  ?  say, 
ma." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  his  mother,  in  a  decided  tone ; 
"  let  Becky  put  it  on  at  once,  and  be  quiet.  I 
never  saw  such  troublesome  children  in  my  life." 

"Ah,  ma,  I  think  you  might,"  Frederick  was 
going  on  to  say, — but  Becky  cut  short  all  his 
whining  by  tying  the  apron  round  his  neck,  and 
pushing  his  chair  up  to  the  table.  She  then  put 
a  clean  napkin  before  Arthur,  and  handed  his 
plate  for  some  chicken. 


150  DINING  OUT. 


"  Ma,  give  me  the  other  wishing-bone,  won't 
you?"  asked  Fred,  as  Mrs.  Murray  helped  Ar- 
thur. 

"  No,  ma,  give  it  to  me,  won't  you  ?"  asked 
William. 

"  Ah,  ma,  let  me  have  it ;  I  want  to  make 
something  particular,"  said  Fred. 

"  Ah,  ma,  he  had  the  last  one,  when  we  had 
chickens  before,"  fretted  Will.  "I  ought  to 
have  this." 

"  Ah,  ma,  give  it  to  me ;  won't  you,  ma  ?" 
urged  Fred. 

"  Hush !  both  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Murray.  "  I 
shall  take  it  myself,  and  she  put  it  on  her 
own  plate,  while  the  boys  scowled  at  each  other 
across  the  table,  and  grumbled  at  their  mother. 

"Arthur,  my  dear,  you  mustn't  mind  these 
naughty  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  helping  Ar- 
thur as  she  spoke  to  some  vegetables.  "  I  wish 
they  would  behave  as  well  at  the  table  as  you 
do." 

The  boys  both  laughed  at  this,  and  said,  "  Oh, 
poh  !  we  don't  care  if  he  does  behave  best ;"  and 


DINING  "OUT.  151 


then  Will  began  to  hum  a  tune,  and  Fred  tilted 
his  chair  sideways,  taking  up  the  bits  of  chicken 
in  his  fingers,  and  stuffing  them  into  his  mouth ; 
helping  himself  to  salt  with  his  knife,  instead 
of  using  the  salt-spoon,  and  then  wiping  his  fin- 
gers on  the  table-cloth.  Arthur  really  was  as- 
tonished at  such  rude  manners. 

"  I  want  some  gravy,"  said  Will,  seizing  his 
plate  with  both  hands,  and  reaching  over  to  his 
mother,  his  knife  and  fork  sticking  out  from 
either  side. 

"  Asking  for  gravy  when  you  have  been  sick 
all  day  with  headache  I"  said  his  mother.  "  Why, 
child,  you  must  be  crazy." 

"  It  won't  hurt  me  a  bit,"  said  Will,  still  hold- 
ing out  his  plate. 

"  And  you  have  butter,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray;  "  the  boy  will  kill  himself!  put  down  your 
plate,  this  minute.  I  shall  not  give  you  a  drop 
of  gravy." 

Will  began  to  cry.  "  I  don't  like  this  dinner," 
sobbed  he;  "my  chicken  is  all  dry,  and  I  won't 
eat  it  without  some  gravy." 


152  DINING   OUT. 


"  Then  you  can  go  without  it,"  said  his  mother. 

Will  pushed  the  plate  from  him,  stuffed  his 
apron  into  his  mouth,  and  sat  kicking  his  feet 
against  the  rungs  of  his  chair.  .  His  mother  or- 
dered him  to  be  quiet,  and  told  Becky  to  take 
his  plate  away :  but  when  Becky  came,  Will 
thought  he  had  better  get  over  his  angry  feelings, 
and  eat  his  dinner,  which  he  did,  as  fast  and  as 
carelessly  as  possible. 

"Ma,  is  there  any  dessert?"  asked  Fred. 

"  Wait — you  will  see,"  replied  Mrs.  Murray. 

"Ah,  say,  is  there,  now?  just  tell  me,  won't 
you  ?"  persisted  Fred.  But  his  mother  would 
not  answer  him. 

"  Becky,  what  have  you  got  ?"  asked  Will. 

"  Tell  us,  Becky,"  whispered  Fred,  "  because, 
if  it  is  anything  I  don't  like,  I  shall  go  away." 

"Boys,  do  be  still,"  said  Mrs.  Murray.  "If 
your  father  was  at  home,  you  would  not  behave 
in  this  way.  I  suppose  Arthur  never  saw  such 
conduct  in  his  life." 

The  boys  laughed  again,  and  Arthur  did  not 
exactly  know  what  to  say,  for  the  truth  was,  he 


DINING   OUT.  153 


never  had  met  with,  such  behavior  before  ;  so  he 
sat  very  quietly,  while  Becky  removed  the  din- 
ner, and  brushed  the  table,  and  wondering  to 
himself  what  his  mother  and  Mary  would  think, 
if  they  were  there. 

Becky  at  last  brought  on  a  rice  pudding. 
Mrs.  Murray  helped  Arthur,  and  gave  William 
a  small  piece  of  it :  but  Frederick  said  he  didn't 
love  rice,  and  should  not  eat  any.  So  while  the 
others  were  eating,  he  crumbed  up  some  bread 
and  made  balls  to  throw  at  "Will  and  Arthur, 
when  his  mother  did  not  see  him ;  caught  a  fly 
on  the  edge  of  a  tumbler,  and  pulled  its  wings 
off ;  and  filled  his  mouth  with  water,  which  he 
spirted  over  the  table  by  striking  his  cheeks  with 
his  fists.  At  this,  Mrs.  Murray  bade  him  leave 
the  room  immediately,  saying  she  would  cer- 
tainly tell  his  father,  when  he  came  home  at 
night ;  and  Arthur  was  very  glad  when  he  could 
leave  the  table  also,  and  soon  after  said  good-bye 
to  the  boys,  and  ran  very  eagerly  to  meet  Alary, 
and  Kitty  Coleman,  who  were  standing  together 
inside  their  own  gate. 


X. 

$, 


)OU  may  think,  perhaps,  from  what  I  have 
told  you,  that  Arthur  was  always  in  a 
good  humor,  always  obedient,  and  always 
amiable  ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  al- 
though he  was  usually  a  good  and  pleas- 
ant child,  yet  there  were  times  when  he  rather 
forgot  himself,  and  was  tempted  to  do  wrong 
like  many  other  children,  and  even  to  be  cross 
and  ill-natured  to  his  little  sister. 

Now  it  happened  that  one  evening  Mr.  Ne- 
land  had  been  talking  of  printing-presses  to  a 
gentleman  who  was  visiting  them,  and  Arthur 
became  so  much  interested,  that  he  asked  his 
father  to  take  him  to  see  one.  Mr.  Neland  re- 
plied that  he  had  no  objections,  and  if  the 
(164) 


A  RAINY  DAY.  155 

weather  was  fine  the  next  day,  they  would  all 
go  into  the  city  for  that  purpose. 

With  this  promise,  Arthur  went  to  bed  in 
high  spirits,  and  he  and  Mary  talked  of  their 
ride  into  town,  and  of  what  they  should  see 
there,  before  they  went  to  sleep.  Mary  was  to 
have  some  new  shoes  bought  for  her,  and  Arthur 
had  a  little  money  of  his  own,  which  he  in- 
tended to  buy  a  book  with.  They  had  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  in  store  as  they  hoped, — but 
when  they  awoke  the  next  morning,  it  was  pour- 
ing with  rain,  and  there  was  an  end  of  their  en- 
joyments ;  for  they  knew  their  father  would  not 
take  them  if.  it  was  raining,  as  he  had  particu- 
larly said  the  weather  must  be  fine. 

11 1  declare,  it  is  too  bad,  too  provoking,"  said 
Arthur,  fretfully,  as  he  stood  at  the  window 
with  one  shoe  on,  and  the  other  in  his  hand ;  "  it 
is  always  the  way.  When  I  want  to  go  any- 
where, it  is  sure  to  rain." 

"  Oh,  not  always,  Arthur,"  said  little  Mary, 
in  a  more  cheerful  tone;  "it  did  not  rain  last 
week,  when  we  went  with  mother  to  Aunt  Ju- 


156  A  RAINY   DAY. 


lia's,  you  remember.     May-be  it  will  clear  by 
and  by,  and  father  will  take  us  then." 

"  I  know  it  won't  clear  ;  it  never  does  when  I 
want  it  to,1'  replied  Arthur,  sulkily;  "there  isn't 
a  bit  of  blue  sky  to  be  seen." 

"  I  guess  you  don't  look  in  the  right  place,' 
said  Mary,  who  was  brushing  her  hair.  "  Let 
us  go  and  look  out  of  mother's  window, — shall 
we  ?  And  beside,  we  can  go  another  day, — so 
don't  fret  about  it." 

"No,  we  can't  go  any  day  but  this,"  persisted 
Arthur,  who  was  resolved  to  be  in  a  bad  humor ; 
and  instead  of  dressing  himself,  he  went  and  lay 
down  on  his  bed  again,  and  Mary  saw  him  wipe 
his  eyes,  as  if  he  had  been  crying  a  little. 

Mary  loved  Arthur  very  dearly,  and  could 
not  be  quite  contented  if  he  was  unhappy ;  so 
she  went  to  him  and  said  kindly,  "  Come,  don't 
fret, — it  won't  do  any  good,  you  know.  Get  up 
and  put  on  your  shoe,  and  let  us  go  down  to 
breakfast.  I  feel  bad,  too,  Arthur,  but  I  don't 
fret — we  can  go  another  day." 

Arthur  got  up  and  finished  dressing,  though 


A  RAINY  DAY.  157 


he  did  not  look  pleasant,  and  then  he  and  Mary- 
said  their  morning  prayers  together,  and  went 
down  to  the  breakfast  table. 

"  Well,  children,  no  printing-press  to-day  for 
us,"  said  their  father,  as  they  came  in.  "  Well, 
never  mind ;  next  week  we  will  try  again,  and 
see  if  we  can  get  a  clear  day  for  our  visit." 

"  I  think  it  is  too  bad,"  said  Arthur,  taking 
his  seat.  "  We  don't  want  rain  just  now,  I  am 
sure." 

"  My  son,  are  you  the  judge  of  such  matters  ?" 
said  his  mother,  gravely.  While  his  father  said, 
laughing,  "  Come,  old  fellow,  cheer  up,  and  don't 
despair  entirely — we  shall  have  a  fine  day  yet,  I 
have  no  doubt.  Why,  you  look  as  if  you  had 
lost  all  your  friends  !" 

Arthur  laughed  a  little  at  the  way  in  which 
his  father  said  this,  but  he  could  not  get  over 
his  disappointment  as  easily  as  Mary,  and  ate 
his  breakfast  nearly  in  silence.  When  the  meal 
was  over,  Mr.  Neland  went  away,  and  Mrs. 
Neland  and  Mary  washed  the  breakfast  things, 
while  Arthur  stood  at  the  window,  watching  the 


158  A  RAINY  DAY. 


rain  that  was  coming  down  so  thick  and  fast, 
and  thinking  of  the  pleasant  time  they  might 
have  had,  if  it  had  only  been  clear.  His  mother 
did  not  say  anything  to  him  about  it,  for  she 
thought  he  would  forget  his  disappointment 
more  easily  if  she  did  not  notice  it ;  nor  did  she 
ask  him  to  go  on  with  his  usual  morning  lessons, 
because  she  knew  he  could  not  do  his  duty  well, 
unless  he  did  it  cheerfully.  So  she  and  Mary 
talked  of  other  things,  and  tried  to  divert  his 
mind  from  the  rain. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day,  mother?" 
asked  Mary,  when  every  thing  was  washed  and 
put  aside. 

Mrs.  Neland  knew  that  they  wanted  some 
occupation  entirely  different  from  their  usual 
employments,  so  she  answered,  "  Why,  to-day  I 
thought  of  overlooking  those  old  trunks  in  the 
attic.  Should  you  and  Arthur  like  to  help 
me?" 

"  Oh,  yes  I  I  shall  like  that  of  all  things,"  said 
Mary.  "Will  you  be  ready  to  go  up  pretty 
soon  ?" 


A  RAINY  DAY.  159 


"  Yes,  as  soon  as  I  have  given  some  directions 
to  Margaret,"  replied  her  mother. 

"  It  will  be  real  fun,  Arthur,  to  rummage  those 
old  trunks,"  said  Mary,  when  her  mother  had 
left  the  room.  "I'm  sure  I  forget  what  is  in 
them,  and  I'd  like  to  see." 

"/don't  want  to  look  into  old  trunks,"  said 
Arthur,  pevishly.  ' '  I  wish  it  would  be  clear — 
that's  .what  I  wish." 

"But  you  know  we  can't  help  the  rain,"  said 
wise  little  Mary,  looking  with  him  up  to  the 
thick  dark  sky.  "You  know  we  don't  make 
the  rain,  and  we  can't  stop  it,  either." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care.  I  didn't  want  it  to  rain 
to-day,"  grumbled  Arthur.  "  The  garden  don't 
want  rain,  and  /  don't, — and  I  think  it's  real 
mean." 

"  Why,  Arthur !  aren't  you  ashamed  of  your- 
self, you  wicked  boy,  to  speak  so,"  said  Mary, 
holding  up  her  little  dimpled  hand  reprovingly, 
"  when  you  know  perfectly  well  that  God  sends 
the  rain,  and  that  He  knows  best  about  it." 

"  Well,  it  might  have  kept  off  till  to-morrow, 


160  A   EAINY  DAY. 


anyhow,"  said  Arthur,  Avho  seemed  determined 
to  be  naughty. 

Mary  looked  very  much  shocked. 

"You  ought  not  to  say  so,  Arthur,"  she  said. 
"You  know  it  is  wrong,  and  I  shall  tell  mother 
if  you  do." 

Arthur  would  not  answer,  but  sat  still,  look- 
ing very  sullenly  out  of  the  window,  till  his 
mother  came  back  and  told  Mary  she  was  going 
up  stairs,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  not  go  too. 
But  Arthur  was  in  a  bad  humor  with  himself, 
the  weather,  and  everything  else ;  so  he  said 
he  didn't  want  to  go,  and  Mrs.  Neland  and  Mary 
went  without  him. 

"  Mother,"  said  Mary,  as  they  went  up  stairs, 
"  Arthur  is  cross  and  naughty ;  and  I  am  sure, 
if  you  knew  how  he  talked  about  the  rain  while 
you  were  down,  stairs,  you  would  punish  him." 

"  I  am  sorry  he  is  cross,"  said  her  mother, — 
"  but  he  feels  disappointed.  I  think  he  will  get 
over  it,  by  and  by.  You  had  better  not  notice 
it,  my  dear."  Then  she  called  out  over  the 
stairs,—"  Arthur,  you  may  come  up  to  us  when 


A  RAINY   DAY.  161 


you  like,  and  I  wish  you  would  bring  a  book 
with  you  from  the  parlor  table, — the  new  one 
wrapped  in  blue  paper." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  called  Arthur.  And  Mrs. 
Neland  heard  him  go  into  the  parlor  to  look  for 
the  new  book.  She  had  given  him  something 
to  think  about,  which  she  was  sure  would  make 
him  forget  the  rain.  Then  she  and  Mary  went 
into  the  attic  and  opened  the  old  trunks. 

And  how  Mary's  little  tongue  did  chatter, 
and  how  eagerly  she  rummaged  to  the  very  bot- 
tom of  each.  "  Oh,  mother !  look  at  this,"  and 
"Oh,  mother!  what  is  this?  I  never  saw  this 
before;  what  a  queer  old  bag!  where  did  you 
get  it  ?  Did  my  grandmother  make  it  for  you  ? 
— Oh,  what  a  nice  fan  this  is,  all  covered  with 
spangles!  where  did  you  get  it? — Here  is  a 
sweet  little  red  cushion,  and  such  a  curious  old 
box !  did  you  have  it  when  you  were  a  little 
girl,  mother?" 

Her  mother  laughed,  and  said  she  asked  so 
many  questions  at  once,  it  was  almost  impossi- 
ble to  answer  them ;  but  if  she  really  wanted  to 


162  A  RAINY  DAY. 


know  about  the  box,  she  would  tell  her  how  she 
came  by  it. 

Mary  said  she  would  like  to  hear  it  very 
much,  but  may -be  Arthur  would  come  up  pres- 
ently, so  she  would  wait  for  him.  Her  mother 
smiled,  and  said  she  was  glad  she  remembered 
her  brother's  pleasure  as  well  as  her  own,  and 
though  the  story  of  the  box  was  nothing  re- 
markable, they  would  wait  till  he  came. 

So  Mary  went  on  with  her  search  in  the 
trunks,  and  it  was  quite  wonderful  how  many 
things  she  found.  Some  of  her  old  toys  were 
there,  which  had  been  put  away  when  she  and 
Arthur  had  grown  tired  of  them,  and  were  quite 
forgotten  by  this  time.  There  were  even  some 
playthings  which  her  mother  had  used  when  a 
child ;  and  Mary  was  almost  crazy  with  delight 
to  find  at  the  very  bottom  of  one  trunk,  snugly 
tucked  away  in  a  small  basket,  a  tiny  wax  doll, 
which  Mrs.  Neland  said  she  might  have  for  her 
own,  beside  a  bundle  of  pretty  silks  for  dresses ; 
and  Mary  felt  quite  rich  as  she  put  them  aside 
with  other  things,  to  carry  into  the  play-room. 


A  KAINY  DAY. 


Presently  they  heard  Arthur  coming  slowly 
up  stairs,  step  by  step,  and  his  mother  knew  he 
was  reading  the  new  book  as  he  came  along. 
On  the  top  of  the  stairs  he  stood  still  for  a  min- 
ute, and  then  came  into  the  attic.  There  was  no 
trace  of  ill-humor  in  his  face  now,  and  he  said 
quite  cheerfully, — "  This  is  a  very  nice  book, 
mother, — when  did  you  buy  it  ?  I've  been  read- 
ing a  story  in  it." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,  my  dear,"  replied  his 
mother.  "  I  bought  it  last  week  in  the  city." 

"Just  look  here,  Arthur,"  cried  Mary, — "  what 
I  have  found  !  Your  old  humming-top,  and  the 
box  of  letters  we  used  to  spell  with,  and  the  old 
game  of  '  Fox  and  Geese.'  And  j  ust  look  in 
this  basket,  what  a  darling  little  doll ! — she  shall 
be  Fanny  Fair's  child,  and  I  mean  to  buy  her  a 
cradle." 

"  Oh,  what  a  lot  of  things !  "  said  Arthur,  and 
he  laid  down  the  book,  and  came  and  knelt 
beside  Mary  at  the  open  trunk.  "  Why,  mother, 
I  didn't  know  you  had  so  many  stored  away  up 
here.  Where  did  you  get  them  all  ?  " 


164:  A  RAINY  DAY. 


"  I  hardly  know,  myself,  Arthur,"  said  his 
mother,  laughing.  "I  have  had  them  a  very 
long  while,  some  of  them  ever  since  I  was  a  little 
girl." 

"  Now,  mother,  you  might  tell  us  about  that 
curious  box,"  said  Mary.  "See,  Arthur!  isn't 
it  funny  ?  and  mother  will  tell  us  how  she  came 
by  it." 

"  When  I  was  a  little  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Neland, 
"  about  your  age,  Mary,  I  had  a  very  bad  habit 
of  biting  my  nails.  Whenever  I  was  vexed,  or 
if  I  was  getting  a  lesson,  or  if  I  had  nothing  to 
do,  one  poor  finger  after  another  was  put  into 
my  mouth,  and  the  nails  torn  off  with  my  sharp 
little  teeth.  I  was  often  reproved  for  this,  and 
my  mother  threatened  to  sew  a  bit  of  rag  round 
each  finger,  if  I  persisted  in  doing  it.  But  al- 
though I  made  many  promises  of  amendment,  I 
was  constantly  forgetting  them,  and  my  hands 
were  frequently  made  to  bleed  by  this  naughty 
habit. 

"  One  day  I  went  with  my  mother  to  see  my 
grand-mamma,  and  when  I  had  taken  off  my 


A   RAINY   DAY.  165 


bonnet  and  gloves,  and  was  sitting  beside  her, 
she  said, — 

" '  What  is  the  matter  with  this  child's  hand, 
my  dear,  that  you  have  two  fingers  bound 
up?' 

"'  Oh,'  said  my  mother,  'she  bites  her  nails 
so  sadly,  that  sometimes  they  are  quite  sore.' 

"'Bites  her  nails!'  said  grand- mamma,  in 
astonishment,  looking  at  me  through  her  spec- 
tacles. 'Oh,  shocking!  such  an  unlady-like 
habit !' 

"I  stood  rather  in  awe  of  my  grand-mamma, 
and  felt  very  much  ashamed  to  hear  her  speak 
so  ;  but  I  did  not  say  anything, — I  only  sat  still 
and  looked  down  at  my  poor  little  fingers. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  my  mother, '  it  is  a  terrible  thing, 
and  I  don't  know  how  to  break  her  of  it.' 

"  '  How  old  is  she  ?'  asked  grand-mamma. 

"  '  Eight  years,'  said  my  mother. 

"  '  Eight  years !  and  yet  cannot  keep  her  fin- 
gers out  of  her  mouth,'  said  grand-mamma.  '  I 
am  quite  surprised.  I  don't  know  what  you 
will  do,  for  she  is  tod  old  to  be  whipped." 


166  A   RAINY  DAT. 


"  '  Of  course,'  said  my  mother.  '  I  only  whip 
little  children,  who  cannot  be  governed  by  rea- 
son.' 

"  Grand  mamma  sat  still  for  a  minute,  without 
replying,  and  seemed  to  be  thinking  very  seri- 
ously. At  last  she  said, — '  Go  to  my  dressing- 
table  in  the  next  room,  Annie,  and  bring  me 
from  the  upper  drawer  a  small  and  curiously 
carved  box.' 

"I  went  immediately,  wondering  what  would 
be  said  next,  and  wishing  I  had  not  come  with 
my  mother. 

"  My  grand-mamma  opened  the  box  when  I 
brought  it  to  her,  and  emptied  the  contents  into 
her  lap. 

"'Annie,'  she  said,  very  kindly,  'this  box 
was  given  to  me  when  I  was  young,  by  a  very 
dear  friend,  and  I  value  it  very  highly  on  that 
account.  It  is,  beside,  something  of  a  curiosity, 
having  been  brought  from  China.  Now,  my 
dear  child,  as  I  wish  to  see  you  a  good  girl  in 
all  respects,  I  will  give  it  to  you,  if  you  will  try 
earnestly  to  cure  yourself  of  this  naughty  trick, 


A   RAINY  DAY.  167 


and  you  may  come  and  get  it  whenever  you 
choose.' 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  was  very  much  pleased  to 
hear  this,  and  readily  promised  to  try  my  best. 
My  mother  said  she  would  give  me  a  month's 
trial,  and  see  if  I  could  suffer  my  nails  to  grow 
in  peace  during  that  time,  and  if  so,  she  thought 
I  might  then  venture  to  come  to  my  grand- 
mamma's for  the  box." 

"  Did  you  get  it  in  a  month  ?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Not  in  th*ee  months,"  replied  her  mother. 
"I  tried  very  hard,  but  I  was  constantly  forget- 
ting my  good  resolutions ;  and  sometimes,  after  I 
had  remembered  for  a  week,  I  was  sure  to  bite 
off  two  or  three  nails,  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
and  have  to  start  afresh.  I  found  out  that  it  is 
very  easy  to  acquire  a  bad  habit,  but  very  hard 
to  break  through  it ;  and,  indeed,  I  began  to  dis- 
pair  of  ever  getting  the  box  at  all." 

"  But  you  did  at  last,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Yes,  I  did  at  last,  and  my  kind  grand- mam- 
ma filled  it  with  sugar-plums  when  she  gave  it 
to  me." 


168  A  EAINY  DAY. 


"And  you  have  never  bitten  your  nails  since?" 
said  Mary. 

"No,  never;  my  father  gave  me  a  small  pair 
of  scissors  to  cut  them  with,  and  when  I  observ- 
ed how  much  more  nicely  my  hands  looked,  I 
saw  that  grand-mamma  was  right  in  being  shock- 
ed at  my  disfigured  fingers." 

"  Then  this  box  belonged  to  my  great-grand- 
mother," said  Mary,  taking  it  up  once  more. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  mother ;  "  and  as  you  are  just 
as  old  as  I  was  when  she  gave  it  to  me,  I  will 
now  give  it  to  you." 

"  Will  you  ?"  exclaimed  Mary,  joyfully.  "  Oh, 
thank  you — what  a  dear  good  mother  you  are  ; 
I  will  take  care  of  it,  and  keep  it  as  long  as  I 
live." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  have  something 
too,  Arthur,  out  of  the  old  trunk,"  said  Mrs. 
Neland. 

"  May -be  you  haven't  anything  that  will  do 
for  boys,"  said  Arthur. 

"I  guess  we  can  find  something,"  said  hia 
mother. 


A   RAINY   DAT.  169 


She  was  glad  to  see  her  little  boy  good-humor- 
ed again.  "  What  do  you  say  to  this  old-fash- 
ioned knife  and  pocket-book  ?  They  were  your 
grandfather's,  and  I  think  you  would  like  to 
have  them." 

Arthur  was  quite  delighted.  His  face,  which 
had  been  as  cloudy  as  the  sky,  when  Mary  and 
his  mother  came  up  stairs,  was  now  smiling  and 
cheerful:  his  disappointed  feelings  had  quite 
passed  away,  and  he  soon  became  as  much  inter- 
ested in  the  contents  of  the  trunks  as  his  sister. 
He  thanked  his  mother  for  the  pocket-book, 
which  particularly  pleased  him,  and  was  still  far- 
ther delighted  to  find  in  one  corner  of  it  a  small 
silver  coin,  which  had  probably  lain  there  for 
many  years.  He  said  he  would  put  it  among  his 
curiosities,  and  keep  it  till  he  became  a  man. 

To  sort  over  and  arrange  the  various  articles 
which  they  had  unpacked,  occupied  them  for  a 
long  time,  during  which  their  mother  amused 
them  with  stories  of  the  different  things  they  saw, 
and  of  the  persons  to  whom  they  had  belonged ; 
and  the  morning  passed  so  pleasantly,  in  spite  of 
15 


170  A  RAINY  DAY. 


the  rain,  that  the  children  were  surprised  to  hear 
the  dinner-bell,  and  wondered  how  the  time  had 
slipped  by  so  fast. 

After  dinner,  as  the  rain  still  continued,  and 
they  could  not  go  out  to  play,  Arthur  read  a 
story  aloud  in  the  new  book,  while  Mary  did  a 
little  hemming  for  her  doll.  Afterward  they 
went  up  to  the  play-room  for  an  hour  to  paint 
some  old  pictures  found  in  the  trunk,  and  hang 
them  on  the  walls ;  and  by  the  time  that  was 
done,  their  father  came  home,  and  tea  was  ready 
— and  so  the  rainy  day  ended. 

That  night  when  the  children  had  gone  to 
bed,  their  mother  went  up  stairs  to  kiss  them, 
for  good-night,  as  she  always  did  before  they 
were  asleep. 

"Arthur,"  said  she,  going  up  to  his  little  bed, 
and  putting  her  soft  hand  on  his  rosy  face, — "I 
think  you  have  had  a  pleasant  day,  after  all, 
— don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  he  answered, — "very  pleas- 
ant." 

"  There  was  a  little  boy  here  this  morning," 


A   RAINY   DAY.  171 


said  his  mother,  gravely,  "who  thought  him- 
self very  unhappy  because  his  kind  Father  in 
Heaven  saw  best  to  send  rain  upon  the  earth. 
He  was  a  silly  little  boy  to  feel  so,  because  his 
sorrow  did  not  stop  the  rain ;  and  he  was  guilty 
of  a  sin,  too,  in  feeling  angry  about  it,  and 
speaking  in  a  disrespectful  way  of  his  Heavenly 
Father's  good  pleasure.  Don't  you  think  he  did 
very  wrong,  Arthur, — and  ought  to  feel  very 
sorry  for  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Arthur,  in  a  low  tone, 
and  feeling  very  much  ashamed. 

"I  think  so,  too,"  said  his  mother.  "And 
before  he  goes  to  sleep,  I  would  like  him  ask 
his  kind  Heavenly  Father  to  forgive  his  sin  and 
ingratitude." 

So  Arthur  kneeled  up  in  the  bed,  and  his 
mother  stood  beside  him,  and  took  his  hands  in 
hers,  and  said  this  short  prayer : — 

"  Our  Father  in  Heaven,  look  down  in  thy 
mercy  upon  us.  Forgive,  we  pray  thee,  the  sin- 
ful thoughts  and  words  of  this  dear  child, — 
particularly  those  of  this  day,  and  give  him  thy 


172  A  KAINY  DAT. 


Holy  Spirit,  that  he  may  not  again  offend  thee, 
for  our  Saviour's  sake.    Amen." 

Then  she  kissed  him  very  tenderly,  and  said 
"God  bless  my  darling  boy:" — and  then  she 
went  down  stairs  again. 


XL 

in  t\t  (its. 


>HE  rain  lasted  two  wliole  days,  and  then 
the  sun  came  out  brightly,  and  every- 
thing looked  fresh  and  cheerful,  —  just 
as  a  little  child,  after  a  long  fit  of  crying, 
when  his  tears  are  dried,  and  he  has 
come  back  to  his  usual  good-humor  again,  looks 
bright  and  happy. 

The  children  were  glad  enough  to  see  the 
sun  ;  for  their  father  had  told  them  they  should 
go  into  the  city  on  the  first  fair  day,  to  visit  the 
printing-press  ;  so  when  Arthur  awoke,  and  saw 
the  golden  light  streaming  upon  the  carpet  of 
his  little  room,  he  sprang  up  in  great  glee,  and 
ran  to  the  window,  calling  to  Mary  to  get  up 
immediately,  that  they  might  be  in  time  for  the 
early  cars.  Mary  heard  him,  though  she  was  in 
15*  (173) 


174  SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY. 


the  next  room,  and  rather  sleepy.  She  was  out 
of  bed  in  a  minute,  and  they  were  both  ready  to 
go  down  stairs,  when  their  mother  came  to 
waken  them. 

Their  father  was  on  the  piazza,  and  they  ran 
out  to  join  him.  "  How  pleasant  the  garden 
looks,  after  the  rain,"  said  Mary.  "  And  how 
sweet  the  air  smells." 

"You  will  take  us  to  the  city  to-day,  father, 
won't  you?  "  asked  Arthur.  "  I'm  sure  it  is  a 
fine  day  now." 

"  Yery  fine,"  replied  his  father.  "  But  are  you 
quite  sure  that  you  want  to  go  ?" 

"  Quite  sure,"  and  "  Oh,  yes,  sir !  "  they  both 
exclaimed. 

"  Then  I  think  we  must  go  to-day,"  said  Mr. 
Neland.  "  "We  will  take  the  cars  at  nine  o'clock, 
if  mamma  can  be  ready." 

"Oh,  she  will  certainly  be  ready,"  cried 
Arthur.  "  I'll  run  and  ask  her  this  minute." 

"  There  is  the  breakfast  bell — let  us  go  in  at 
once,"  said  Mary.  "  Don't  stop  to  wash  your 
hands,  father, — they  are  riot  at  all  soiled." 


SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY.  175 


"  I  must  wash  the  garden  dust  off,  before  I 
eat,"  replied  her  father.  "I  have  been  weeding 
a  little." 

The  children  had  scarcely  patience  to  wait  till 
this  was  done,  though  it  was  only  seven  o'clock 
then;  and  when  they  sat  down  at  the  table, 
they  could  not  eat  from  eagerness  to  be  off. 
They  watched  all  their  mother's  movements,  and 
were  terribly  afraid  she  would  be  too  late  for 
the  nine  o'clock  cars,  if  she  stopped  to  do  so 
many  little  things  before  putting  on  her  bonnet. 

But  at  last,  notwithstanding  all  their  uneasi- 
ness, everything  was  done ;  Mrs.  Neland  came 
down  stairs,  quite  ready,  and  Mr.  Neland  said 
it  was  time  to  walk  to  the  cars,  as  it  wanted 
fifteen  minutes  to  nine.  Arthur  and  Mary  ran 
on  before,  and  were  at  the  station,  just  as  they 
heard  the  loud  steam  whistle,  a  mile  off. 

Mary  was  in  a  terrible  fidget,  lest  they  should 
not  get  a  nice  seat,  and  did  not  feel  quite  con- 
tented till  she  was  perched  up  at  the  car 
window,  with  Arthur  close  beside  her,  and  her 
father  and  mother  just  behind  them.  "  What  a 


176  SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY. 


fine  day !  What  comfortable  cars  these  are  J 
How  pleasant  the  country  looks !  "  she  repeated 
again  and  again  as  they  rode  along,  and  her 
father  said, — 

"Why,  my  little  Mary,  how  happy  you  are 
to-day  !  I  did  not  think  you  cared  so  much 
about  a  visit  to  town." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  care  a  great  deal,  sir,"  she  an- 
swered. "  And  I  expect  to  enjoy  myself  very 
much." 

Her  father  and  mother  smiled,  but  told  her 
not  to  expect  too  much  pleasure,  as  she  might  be 
disappointed.  Arthur  said  he  was  very  glad 
they  were  really  started  at  last,  for  he  had  been 
afraid  all  the  morning  that  rain,  or  something 
else,  would  happen  to  keep  them  at  home. 

They  had  about  twenty  miles  to  ride,  before 
they  reached  the  city;  and  the  railway  ran 
through  a  very  pretty  country.  They  passed 
many  fine  houses,  with  beautiful  gardens,  and 
stopped  several  times  to  take  in  passengers  at 
the  villages  they  came  too, — crossed  a  river  on 
a  covered  bridge,  and  at  last  saw  the  steeples 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  CITY.  177 


and  house-tops  before  them,  and  were  soon  at 
the  depot  in  the  city.  Arthur  wanted  to  go 
at  once  to  the  printing-office. 

"  Not  quite  yet,"  said  his  father ;  and  he  went 
into  a  large  store  filled  with  groceries,  which 
was  near  the  depot.  Here  Mr.  Neland  bought 
a  number  of  things,  and  while  he  was  selecting 
flour,  and  tea,  and  sugar,  and  coffee,  and  Mrs. 
Neland  was  choosing  some  spice  and  other  nice- 
ties, the  children  played  with  a  fine  black  dog, 
at  the  store  door ;  and  a  young  man  in  the  store 
asked  them  if  they  would  like  to  be  weighed. 
Mary  thought  he  meant  to  weigh  them  in  a  pair 
of  tin  scales  which  hung  above  the  counter,  and 
could  not  help  laughing  at  the  idea ;  but  she  was 
told  to  stand  upon  a  small  square  platform  on 
the  floor,  and  then  the  young  man  placed  an 
iron  weight  upon  a  steel  bar  with  figures  on  it, 
and  told  Mary  she  weighed  just  thirty-eight 
pounds. 

Then  Arthur  stepped  on  the  scale,  and  he 
weighed  forty-five  pounds ;  and  while  they  were 
talking  about  it,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Neland  came 


178  SIGHTS  IX  THE  CITY. 


from  the  other  end  of  the  store,  and  gave  the 
children  each  a  nice  bunch  of  raisins,  which 
they  found  very  sweet  and  good.  Mr. 
Neland  said  he  was  now  ready  to  go  to  the 
printing-office,  and  they  left  the  store  and  walk- 
ed down  the  street.  The  walk  was  a  long  one, 
and  Alary  began  to  think  they  would  never  get 
to  the  place,  when  they  turned  into  a  narrow 
street  and  stopped  at  a  tall,  dark,  dingy  build- 
ing, which  her  father  said  was  the  printing- 
office. 

They  went  up  a  long  flight  of  stairs,  and  in  a 
wide  room  they  found  a  number  of  men  with 
paper  caps  on  their  heads,  who  were  at  work  at 
the  large  printing-presses.  Arthur  and  his  sister 
walked  up  to  one  of  these,  and  their  father  ex- 
plained to  them  how  the  paper  was  printed,  the 
large  sheets  of  which  they  saw  taken  off  one  by 
one,  and  laid  together  in  a  pile.  Arthur  could 
not  exactly  comprehend  about  the  type ;  so  they 
went  up  to  another  room,  where  another  set  of 
men,  called  compositors,  were  standing  at  high 
sort -of  desks,  in  which  were  little  boxes  or  par- 


SIGHTS   IN   THE   CITY.  179 


titions  with  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  each  in 
its  separate  box.  These  the  compositors  picked 
up  one  by  one  very  rapidly,  and  put  them  in 
order  to  spell  different  words,  and  form  long 
sentences.  Then  when  these  were  properly  ar- 
ranged, and  secured  together,  they  were  carried 
down  and  put  upon  the  press,  touched  with  ink 
by  a  long  roller  which  passed  over  them,  and 
the  sheets  of  paper  laid  on  and  pressed  down 
upon  them ;  and  so,  the  words  were  printed,  and 
books  and  newspapers  made. 

I  do  not  suppose  Arthur  understood  all  his 
father's  explanations,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
little  Mary  did  not,  but  they  were  both  very 
much  interested  in  watching  the  operation,  and 
talked  a  great  deal,  and  asked  a  great  many 
questions,  which  a  good-natured  and  intelligent 
workman  very  kindly  answered. 

They  stayed  at  the  printing-office  nearly  an 
hour,  and  Arthur  would  have  stayed  much  longer 
had  not  his  father  reminded  him  of  some  other 
things  to  be  done  that  day,  which  they  would  not 
have  time  to  attend  to  if  they  did  not  go  on. 


180  SIGHTS   IN  THE   CITY. 


Arthur  went  away  very  unwillingly,  telling  his 
father  he  would  like  to  be  a  printer  when  he 
was  old  enough.  Mary  said,  she  thought  it 
must  be  rather  dirty  work,  and  it  would  be  a 
pity  to  soil  his  clean  fingers  with  printers'  ink, 
but  Arthur  declared  he  should  not  mind  that  a 
straw,  as  there  was  plenty  of  water  in  the  world 
to  make  them  clean  again. 

They  had  only  walked  a  few  squares,  after 
leaving  the  printing-office,  and  turned  into  a 
wider  and  pleasanter  street,  when  they  heard 
the  sound  of  music  and  loud  beating  of  a  drum. 
"Hark!"  cried  Arthur,  standing  still.  "Father, 
they  are  soldiers,  a  company  of  soldiers.  Look ! 
they  are  coming  this  way.  Don't  you  see  the 
caps  and  feathers?" 

"  Let  me  see,  too,"  cried  Mary,  clapping  her 
hands.  "Oh,  mother,  won't  it  be  beautiful? 
How  glad  I  am  we  came  to-day !'' 

"  Come  and  stand  upon  these  steps,  Mary, 
while  they  pass,"  said  her  father.  "  Now,  you 
can  see  them  over  the  heads  of  the  people,  you 
are  such  a  little  body." 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  CITY.  181 


Mary  laughed,  and  ran  up  the  steps  beside 
Arthur,  who  was  eagerly  looking  out  for  the 
soldiers.  He  was  beating  time  with  his  foot,  as 
the  musicians  played.  "  Don't  they  look  grand?" 
said  he.  "See  the  captain,  Mary,  with  his 
sword  1" 

"  See  those  little  fellows  with  flags !"  exclaimed 
Mary.  "  They  are  boy  soldiers." 

"  They  are  called  markers,"  said  her  father. 
"  The  company  is  going  to  turn  into  the  next 
street ;  see  how  one  of  the  markers  runs  and 
plants  his  flag  just  at  the  point  where  they  begin 
to  turn." 

"  I  wish  I  was  a  marker,"  said  Arthur.  "  Fa- 
ther, can't  I  be  a  soldier,  when  I  am  old 
enough?" 

"  Why,  just  now  you  wanted  to  be  a  printer," 
said  Mary. 

"I  think  I  would  rather  be  a  soldier,  after 
all,"  said  Arthur.  "  They  look  so  splendid  in 
their  uniforms,  and  the  feathers  dance  about  so 
in  the  wind.  I'd  like  to  be  the  one  on  horse- 
back, galloping  along  so  bravely,  only  I 
16 


182  SIGHTS   IN  THE   CITY. 


would  have  a  white  horse  instead  of  a  black 
one." 

"  You  are  just  like  Hans,  at  the  toll-gate,  in 
the  story  of  '  Fairy  Contenta,'  "  said  Mary. 

"But  I  don't  think  his  wishes  will  be  grati- 
fied quite  so  easily,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  I  guess  there  are  no  fairies  in  this  neighbor- 
hood," said  Mr.  Neland.  "  The  city  noises 
would  frighten  them  away." 

"I  wish  a  fairy,  or  somebody  else,  would  give 
me  something  to  eat,"  said  Mary.  "I  am  as 
hungry  as  can  be." 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  said  her  father,  taking  her 
hand  in  his  as  they  walked  on,  the  soldiers  hav- 
ing all  marched  out  of  sight.  "  Eeally,  we  must 
see  what  the  fairies  can  do  for  you.  First,  we 
will  step  into  this  store  and  buy  some  new  shoes, 
and  then  we  will  go  on  a  little  farther,  to  one 
of  those  fairy  houses  where  good  things  are  sold 
to  starving  people." 

Mary  found  it  tiresome  work  to  try  on  shoes, 
when  she  was  so  very  hungry  ;  and  there  were 
three  pairs  to  be  bought  for  her,  and  three  for 


SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY.  183 


Arthur,  because  they  might  not  be  in  the  city 
again  for  a  long  time.  Arthur  was  a  great 
while  getting  suited,  complaining  that  one  pair 
pinched  his  toes,  and  another  pair  were  too  large, 
and  a  third  were  too  short ;  and  poor  little  Mary 
sat  waiting  very  patiently  till  he  was  ready, 
though  she  could  not  help  thinking  he  was  very 
hard  to  please.  At  last,  however,  the  shoes  were 
bought,  and  her  father  said, — 

"  Now,  little  hungry  girl,  we  will  go  and  see 
the  fairies,  and  get  something  to  eat." 

So  they  went  on  a  few  squares,  and  came  to 
a  handsome  store  with  large  glass  windows,  in 
which  were  exhibited  all  sorts  of  tempting  things. 
They  went  into  this  store,  which  was  very  ele- 
gant, and  saw  a  number  of  small  tables.  Those 
near  the  wall  had  pretty  crimson  sofas  behind 
them,  and  they  sat  down  on  one  of  these.  Then 
their  father  asked  what  they  would  have,  and 
Mrs.  Neland  said  she  would  take  some  broiled 
chicken,  and  a  nice  roll.  Mary  chose  the  same, 
but  Arthur  preferred  a  plate  of  oysters,  and  Mr. 
Neland  said  he  liked  roast  beef  the  best.  Then 


184  SIGHTS  IN  THE  CITY. 


he  called  a  waiter,  who  was  passing  round  among 
the  tables,  helping  all  the  people  who  sat  beside 
them,  and  told  him  what  to  bring.  The  waiter 
stayed  a  long  time,  the  children  thought,  but  he 
came  back  at  last  with  a  nice  dinner,  which  they 
enjoyed  exceedingly,  and  Mary  told  her  father 
he  was  the  best  fairy  she  had  ever  seen. 

"And  now,  good  Mr.  Fairy,"  said  their 
mother,  "as  I  have  eaten  all  my  chicken,  I 
will  thank  you  to  give  me  some  ice-cream,  and 
perhaps  little  Mary  would  like  some  too." 

Little  Mary  smiled  Yes — and  the  waiter  was 
called  again,  and  desired  to  bring  some  cream, 
and  a  glass  of  jelly  for  Arthur,  and  a  plate  of 
cake ;  and  so  they  had  a  nice  dessert,  and  felt 
quite  refreshed  and  rested  for  the  remainder  of 
their  business. 

As  they  came  out  of  the  saloon,  a  boy  at  the 
door  thrust  a  hand-bill  toward  Mr.  Neland,  cry- 
ing, "  Grand  Menagerie,  Sir !  Largest  Elephant 
in  the  world !  Koyal  Bengal  Tiger." 

"  Oh,  father,  do  let  us  go  and  see  them,"  cried 
Arthur. 


SIGHTS  IN   THE  CITY.  185 


"  Do,  do  I"  echoed  Mary.  "  I  never  saw  a 
live  elephant  in  my  life." 

"And  monkeys,  father,"  exclaimed  Arthur, 
looking  over  the  hand-bill  which  Mr.  Neland 
was  reading, — "  do  go !  Mother,  don't  you  want 
to  see  them  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  take  too  long  a  time,"  said 
Mr.  Neland.  What  do  you  say,  my  dear?" 

Mrs.  Neland  smiled  at  the  two  little  eager 
faces,  which  waited  for  her  decision.  "Is  it 
very  lat£?"  said  she.  Mr.  Neland  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  answered,  "A  quarter  past  one. 
Not  so  late  as  I  thought.  Perhaps  we  might  go 
for  a  short  visit;  what  have  you  to  do  after- 
ward?" 

"  Only  to  get  Arthur  a  cap — and  I  should  like 
to  call  and  see  Mrs.  Kobertson  before  we  leave 
the  city." 

"  And  I  must  see  a  gentleman  on  business  at 
three  o'clock,  and  can  meet  you  at  the  depot  at 
five  ;  so  I  think  we  may  go  and  see  the  animals, 
since  the  children  wish  it  so  much." 

"  Well,  I  am  quite  willing,"  said  Mrs.  Neland ; 
16* 


186  SIGHTS  IN   THE   CITY. 


"  indeed,  I  think  I  shall  like  it  very  much,  for  I 
have  not  seen  a  collection  of  this  kind  since  I 
was  a  little  girl." 

Arthur  and  Mary  clapped  their  hands  with 
delight,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  I"  ".Oh 
how  delightful  it  will  be!" — and  Mr.  Neland 
stopping  an  omnibus,  they  got  into  it,  and  drove 
to  the  menagerie. 

After  purchasing  their  tickets,  they  entered  a 
large  hall,  on  each  side  of  which  the  animals 
were  placed  in  strong  cages.  Arthur*  walked 
boldly  up  to  the  first  cage,  which  contained  a 
huge  black  bear,  but  poor  little  Mary,  when  she 
found  herself  really  face  to  face  with  these  wild 
creatures,  and  heard  their  growling  from  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  hall,  became  very  much  fright- 
ened, and  drew  her  father  back,  saying, — 

"  I  'think  I  would  rather  not  see  them  after 
all,  father,  they  frighten  me  so." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  you,  my  darling,"  said 
her  father. 

"Nonsense,  Mary,"  exclaimed  Arthur;"  what 
are  you  afraid  of,  child  ?" 


SIGHTS  IN"  THE   CITY.  187 


"  You  must  remember  -that  Mary  is  not  as  old 
nor  as  brave  as  you  are,  Arthur,"  replied  Mr. 
Neland.  "Keep  hold  of  my  hand,  my  dear, 
and  nothing  shall  hurt  you." 

Thus  reassured,  Mary  went  on,  grasping  her 
father's  hand  very  tightly,  and  having  her 
mother  close  on  the  other  side.  Her  little  heart, 
however,  went  pit-a-pat  very  fast,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  she  felt  quite  safe  and  easy. 
They  made  their  way  slowly  round  the  hall, 
stopping  at  every  cage.  The  royal  Bengal  ti- 
ger, the  beautiful  spotted  leopard,  and  the  large 
African  lion  and  lioness,  surprised  and  delighted 
Arthur.  He  said  he  should  now  like  to  read 
about  them  more  than  ever.  They  saw  the  wolf 
and  hyena;  the  quiet,  patient  camel  from  the 
Arabian  deserts ;  the  striped  zebra,  the  ostrich, 
and  many  other  strange  creatures  from  all  parts 
of  the  world.  But  when  they  came  to  the  cage 
of  monkeys,  their  amusement  and  delight  knew 
no  bounds.  The  space  in  front  of  the  cage  was 
filled  with  children,  and  grown  people  too,  who 
were  laughing  loud  and  heartily  at  the  tricks 


188  SIGHTS  IN   THE   CITY. 


and  grimaces  of  the  mischievous  little  creatures, 
as  they  climbed  about  the  cage  on  bars  of  iron. 
Arthur  could  scarcely  make  his  way  through  the 
crowd  to  get  a  peep ;  but  by  and  by  they  man- 
aged to  squeeze  in,  and  got  a  place  where  they 
could  see  very  well.  Mr.  Neland  bought  an 
apple  from  a  boy  who  was  offering  them  for  sale, 
and  this  the  children  bit  into  pieces  and  threw 
to  the  monkeys,  which  not  only  amused  them- 
selves, but  the  other  people  also.  One  monkey 
came  down  and  took  a  bit  from  Arthur's  hand, 
and  then  ran  nimbly  to  the  topmost  bar,  pursued 
by  an  active,  long-tailed  fellow,  trying  to  get  it 
from  him. 

"While  they  were  looking  at  the  monkeys,  they 
heard  a  shrill  whistle,  and  presently  a  large  ele- 
phant was  led  in  by  his  keeper.  "  Oh,  father !" 
exclaimed  Mary,  all  in  a  tremble,  "  will  he  hurt 
us?" 

"Not  unless  we  hurt  him,"  said  Mr.  Neland. 
"  See  how  docile  and  obedient  he  is !"  The 
crowd  immediately  collected  about  the  huge  an- 
imal, who  went  through  a  great  many  perform- 


SIGHTS  IN   THE   CITY.  189 


ances  at  the  word  of  command  :  lay  down  when 
desired,  picked  up  the  smallest  coins  that  were 
thrown  to  him,  carried  his  keeper  on  his  probos- 
cis and  back,  and  completely  drew  away  the  at- 
tention of  everybody  from  the  other  inmates  of 
the  menagerie.  Even  the  monkeys  were  quite 
neglected  when  the  elephant  appeared. 

Arthur  felt  as  if  he  could  stay  there  all  day; 
but  after  looking  at  the  elephant  some  time,  Mr. 
Neland  said  it  was  time  to  go,  or  he  should  be 
obliged  to  break  his  engagement  at  three  o'clock, 
and  the  children  knew  that  he  would  never  do 
that. 

When  they  left  the  menagerie,  Mrs.  Neland 
said  she  would  buy  Arthur's  cap,  and  then  go 
to  Mrs.  Kobertson's ;  and  Mr.  Neland  said  he 
should  go  down  town,  and  meet  them  at  the  de- 
pot at  five  o'clock,  which  Mrs.  Neland  thought 
a  very  good  arrangement,  as  they  would  then 
reach  home  just  at  tea-time.  Arthur's  cap  was 
purchased  very  satisfactorily  to  himself,  and  a 
new  pair  of  gloves  for  Mary,  and  then  they 
walked  on  to  see  Mrs.  Robertson,  who  was  an 


190  SIGHTS   IN   THE   CITY. 


old  and  dear  friend  of  their  mother's,  just  re- 
turned to  New  York,  after  living  many  years  in 
New  Orleans. 

"  Who  shall  we  see  at  Mrs.  Eobertson's  ?" 
asked  Mary. 

"  Herself,  I  hope,"  replied  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  Has  she  any  children  ?" 

"  No,  she  has  lost  both  her  children." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  very  dull  visit,"  said 
Arthur,  who,  after  the  excitement  of  the  me- 
nagerie, felt  as  if  nothing  else  could  possibly 
amuse  him.  "Must  you  go,  mother  ?" 

"Not  exactly  must"  replied  Mrs.  Neland, 
"  but  I  wish  to  go,  and  I  do  not  think  it  will  be 
dull." 

"Well,"  said  Arthur,  in  a  resigned  tone,  "I 
suppose  we  had  better  go,  then." 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Eobertson  will  be  glad  to  see 
us,  and  we  will  not  stay  long,"  replied  Mrs.  Ne- 
land. 

Arthur  and  Mary  ran  up  the  steps  of  Mrs. 
Robertson's  house  rather  reluctantly,  hoping,  as 
they  rang  the  bell,  that  she  would  .  not  be  at 


SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY.  191 


home ;  but,  to  their  disappointment,  the  servant 
who  opened  the  door  said  his  mistress  was  in 
the  parlor,  and  invited  them  to  walk  in,  while 
Mary  pressed  her  mother's  hand,  and  whispered, 
"  Don't  stay  long,  please." 

Mrs.  Kobertson  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  per- 
son the  children  had  expected  to  see.  Somehow, 
Mary  had  imagined  her  very  sad  looking,  and 
rather  old;  but  instead  of  that,  they  were  met  by 
a  cheerful,  pleasant  person,  about  the  age  of  their 
own  mother,  who  seemed  delighted  to  meet 
them. 

"  My  dear  Annie,"  said  she,  kissing  Mrs.  Ne- 
land,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  once  more;  and 
you  have  brought  Arthur  and  Mary,  too.  That 
was  very  kind,  for  I  have  not  seen  them  since 
they  were  tiny  little  things.  How  are  you,  my 
dears  ?  Pray  sit  down,  and  tell  me  when  you 
came  into  the  citv." 

tr 

Mrs.  Neland  replied,  that  they  were  only  pass- 
ing the  day  in  town,  and  were  going  home  at 
five  o'clock. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  come  here  sooner," 


192  SIGHTS   IN   THE   CITY. 


said  Mrs.  Robertson, — "  I  might  have  helped  you 
to  amuse  the  children ;  they  want  all  the  pleas- 
ure to  be  gotten  out  of  one  day  in"  town.  Come, 
let  me  see  what  we  can  find  for  them  now.  It  is 
stupid  business  for  children  to  sit  still  and  listen 
while  grown  people  talk.  Don't  you  think  so, 
little  folks?" 

Mrs.  Robertson  rang  the  bell  as  she  was  speak- 
ing, and  a  neat  little  colored  girl  came  into  the 
room.  "  Sylvia,"  said  Mrs.  Robertson,  "  take 
my  two  little  friends  here,  and  show  them  the 
parrot.  Make  her  say  everything  she  can ;  and 
when  they  are  tired,  show  them  the  Java  spar- 
rows." 

Sylvia  smiled  very  pleasantly,  and  the  chil- 
dren followed  her  through  a  long  hall,  and  out 
upon  a  balcony  at  the  back  of  the  house,  where 
the  parrot's  cage  was  hanging. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Poll,"  said  Sylvia; 
"  are  you  pretty  well  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  pretty  well,  Polly  pretty  well," 
replied  the  parrot. 

"  Have  you  had  your  breakfast,  Polly  ?" 


SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY.  193 

"  Coffee,  hot  coffee,  eggs,  toast ;  cook  get  break- 
fast," screamed  the  parrot. 

"No  breakfast  for  naughty  Polly,  to-day," 
said  Sylvia. 

"  Cook,  get  breakfast — please  ma'am,  please 
ma'am,  poor  Polly,  Polly  hungry,  Polly  very 
hungry." 

Mary  and  Arthur  laughed  heartily  at  this,  and 
then  the  parrot  laughed  too,  "  Ha!  ha!  ha!  how 
funny!  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"  Mr.  Robertson  can  make  her  talk  first-rate," 
said  Sylvia. 

"  Mr.  Eobertson,  Mr.  Robertson,"  screamed 
the  parrot,  "  come  to  dinner.  Take  a  chair, 
pretty  Polly,  pretty  Polly.  Bring  some  sugar. 
Polly,  where's  the  sugar  ?  " 

"I'll  get  her  a  lump,"  said  Sylvia;  and  she 
ran  for  some.  "  Here,  Mrs.  Poll,  what  do  you 
say  for  it  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  parrot ;  and 
taking  it  in  her  claws,  she  bit  it  with  her  large 
crooked  bill,  and  then  called  out  again,  "  Sylvia, 
pretty  Sylvia,  good-bye,  good-bye." 
17 


194  SIGHTS   IN  THE   CITY. 

"  She  wants  us  to  go,"  said  Arthur, — "  she  is 
bidding  us  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  ma'am,"  echoed  the  parrot ;  and 
when  the  children  laughed,  she  laughed  too, 
both  loud  and  long.  The  bird  had  been  given 
to  Mr.  Robertson  by  a  foreign  gentleman,  and  he 
had  taken  great  pains  to  train  and  teach  it.  It 
spoke  remarkably  well.  Arthur  was  anxious 
his  mother  should  hear  it  as  well  as  himself,  and 
he  ran  back  into  the  parlor  to  ask  her  to  go  upon 
the  balcony. 

"I  thought  you  would  like  our  Polly,"  said 
Mrs.  Robertson,  as  they  went  out ;  "  she  is  a 
great  favorite  with  the  young  folks  who  come  to 
see  me.  "Well,  Mrs.  Poll,  how  do  you  do?" 

"  How  do  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  parrot. 

"She  says  'my  dear,'  because  she  hears  my 
husband  call  me  so,"  said  Mrs.  Robertson. 

"Company  in  the  parlor,"  cried  the  parrot 
"Sylvia,  bring  some  cake." 

"  That  is  a  very  good  hint,  Mrs.  Poll,"  said 
Mrs.  Robertson.  "  Do,  Sylvia,  get  out  the  cake- 
basket;  I  dare  say  the  children  are  hungry." 


SIGHTS  IN   THE   CITY.  195 


But  Mrs.  Neland  said  they  had  just  been  dining 
heartily,  and  could  take  nothing  more. 

"Polly  hungry.  Come  to  dinner,  chicken-pie, 
poor  Polly  hungry,"  said  the  parrot. 

"She  always  says  she  is  hungry,"  said  Sylvia. 

"And  I  believe  she  can  always  eat,"  said  Mrs. 
Eobertson,  giving  the  parrot  a  bit  of  cake  from 
the  basket.  Polly  ate  it  up  in  a  minute. 

"  What  beautiful  green  feathers  she  has,"  said 
Mary.  "  Oh,  mother,  I  wish  we  had  a  parrot." 

"  They  are  very  troublesome  as  well  as  noisy 
pets,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Kobertson. 

""We  should  not  care  for  that,"  said  Arthur, 
eagerly.  "It  would  be  such  fun  to  hear  one 
talk,  and  teach  it  new  words  to  say." 

"  Ah,  Arthur ! "  said  Mrs.  Kobertson,  "  I  would 
rather  have  such  little  parrots  as  you  and  Mary 
to  teach,  than  a  poor  senseless  bird." 

"  Why,  don't  it  understand,  ma'am  ?  "  asked 
Mary. 

"No.  It  repeats  what  it  frequently  hears, 
and  is  taught  certain  sentences  which  sound  very 
amusing,  but  it  does  not  understand  them." 


196  SIGHTS  IN  THE   CITY. 


"And  very  wonderful,"  said  Arthur,  "to 
think  of  a  bird's  speaking  as  we  do." 

"They  speak,  but  they  do  not  think,"  said 
Mary. 

"No,  they  have  only  instinct,  not  reason," 
replied  her  mother ;  "  they  cannot  think." 

"  Is  it  because  they  have  no  souls?  "  whispered 
Mary  to  her  mother. 

"  Yes,  Mary,  that  is  the  difference  between  you 
and  the  parrot,"  said  Mrs.  Kobertson,  who  had 
heard  the  whisper.  "  That  part  of  you  which 
thinks,  and  directs  your  actions,  the  bird  has 
not." 

"  God  gave  it  only  to  man,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 
Here  the  parrot  began  to  scream  again,  and  the 
children  became  so  diverted  with  it,  that  they 
did  not  care  to  walk  with  Mrs.  Eobertson  and 
their  mother  round  a  pretty  little  garden  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  nor  even  to  go  into  the  parlor 
to  see  some  fine  pictures.  They  stayed  with 
Sylvia  on  the  balcony,  who  good-naturedly  kept 
the  parrot  talking  for  their  amusement,  until 
Mrs.  Neland  called  them,  as  it  was  time  to  go. 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  CITY.  197 


"  Eeally,  mother,"  said  Arthur,  as  they  went 
down  the  steps,  "  we  have  had  a  very  pleasant 
visit.  I  did  not  find  it  dull  at  all.  I  should 
have  liked  to  stay  longer.  Mary,  don't  you 
think  it  was  pleasant  ?  " 

"  Yery  pleasant,"  replied  Mary;  "I  liked  the 
parrot  above  all  things,  and  Sylvia  was  so  kind, 
too.  Didn't  you  like  Sylvia,  Arthur  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  was  so  good-natured ;  and  didn't 
you  like  Mrs.  Robertson,  Mary  ?  " 

"  I  thought  she  was  delightful,"  replied  Mary; 
u  and  then  she  was  so  young, — as  young  as  you 
are,  mother." 

"  Dear  me !  why,  I  am  quite  an  old  lady,"  said 
Mrs.  Neland,  smiling. 

"  No,  indeed,"  Mary  and  Arthur  cried  in  a 
breath.  "  You  are  very  young.  I  don't  believe 
you  are  more  than  twenty,  now,"  added  Arthur. 

"  What !  not  with  such  large  children  as  you 
are  ?  Why,  I  must  soon  be  thinking  of  getting 
a  pair  of  spectacles,  and  wearing  caps,  like 
grand-mamma  Neland ! " 

"Caps!  no,  indeed!"  cried  Mary;  "caps  to 
17* 


198  SIGHTS  IN  THE  CITY. 


cover  up  your  pretty  brown  curls,  and  spectacles 
to  hide  your  blue  eyes !  You  shall  never  wear 
them,  mother — never  ! " 

"Bless  me!  what  queer  children  you  are!" 
said  their  mother,  laughing.  "Why,  caps  and 
spectacles  are  very  good  things,  and  everybody 
wears  them  when  they  grow  old." 

"  "Well,  you  are  not  old  yet,  and  it  will  be 
time  enough  to  talk  of  them  when  you  are," 
said  Arthur. 

<;  And  beside,"  said  Mary,  "  I  want  to  ask 
you  about  Mrs.  Robertson's  children." 

"  And  I  want  to  ask  you  about  going  to  a 
bookstore,"  said  Arthur.  "  I've  got  three  shil- 
lings of  my  own,  and  I  want  to  buy  a  book 
with  it." 

"Yes,  do  go  to  a  bookstore,  mother,"  said 
Mary.  "  Only,  if  you  please,  just  tell  me  first 
about  those  children." 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  replied  Mrs. 
Neland.  "  The  eldest  died  when  a  baby,  and 
the  other,  a  little  girl,  lived  to  be  three  years 
old.  Mrs.  Robertson  was  in  great  sorrow  for 


SIGHTS  IX  THE   CITY. 


the  loss  of  her  children ;  but  they  have  been 
dead  some  years,  and  she  is  beginning  to  feel 
happier  again." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Mary,  gravely,  "that 
I  could  never  get  over  it  at  all.  I  should  keep 
being  sorry  forever  and  ever." 

"Mary,  don't  talk  about  dead  babies  now, 
and  such  gloomy  things,"  said  Arthur.  "  Let's 
be  as  happy  as  we  can  to-day.  There  is  a  book- 
store on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  We  can 
go  over  there,  can't  we  ? "  "  Yes,"  said  his 
mother ;  and  they  went  over  to  the  store.  And 
what  heaps  of  new  books  they  found.  A  great 
many  which  the  children  had  read,  and  many 
more  which  they  wanted  to  read.  There  were 
the  Eollo,  and  Jonas  books, — Arthur  had  read 
nearly  all  of  them;  and  the  Harpers'  story 
books  ;  and  '  Harry  and  Bessie ;'  and  the  '  Lucy 
Books,'  which  Mary  loved,  and  all  the  rest  of 
good  Mr.  Abbot's  stories.  Indeed,  the  longer 
they  looked  the  more  delighted  they  were,  and 
the  more  puzzled  which  to  choose.  Mrs.  Neland 
left  them  to  select  one,  while  she  was  looking  at 


200  SIGHTS   IN   THE   CITY. 


something  else  ;  but  she  could  hear  them  talk- 
ing all  the  while. 

"Arthur,  look  here.  This  is  '  Robinson  Cru- 
soe,'— wouldn't  you  like  that?  " 

" '  Robinson  Crusoe,' — yes,  but  here  is  another, 
'  The  Boy  Hunters.'  This  looks  pretty, — what 
is  the  price  of  this,  sir  ?  " 

The  price  named  was  beyond  Arthur's  means, 
more  than  three  shillings,  and  he  laid  the  book 
aside  very  quietly. 

"  Here  are  '  Holidays  at  Home,'  and  '  Fireside 
Fairies,' "  said  Mary. 

"  I've  read  those,''  said  Arthur. 

" '  Rollo  in  Europe,'  "  said  the  bookseller,  plac- 
ing another  set  of  Mr.  Abbot's  charming  works 
before  them. 

"  Arthur  hasn't  money  enough  to  buy  those, 
I  am  afraid,"  said  Mary. 

"  That  is  a  pity,"  said  the  gentleman,  smiling. 
"  We  must  try  and  find  something  more  suited 
to  his  means." 

"Mother,  do  come  and  help  us,  won't  you?" 
said  Mary,  pulling  her  mother's  dress  to  attract 


SIGHTS  IN   THE   CITY.  201 


her  attention.      "We  can't, — at  least,   Arthur 
can't, — get  suited  at  all  without  you." 

"  Then  I  must  come,  I  suppose,  since  you  are 
so  much  in  want ;"  and  Mrs.  Neland  laid  down 
the  book  she  was  reading,  and  went  over  to 
Arthur. 

"  The  young  gentleman  appears  to  like  this 
volume,"  said  the  bookseller;  "but  thinks  he 
cannot  afford  to  buy  it." 

"  A  book  of  Fairy  Tales,"  said  Arthur ;  "but 
the  price  is  four  shillings, — and  I  have  only 
three." 

"Quite  unfortunate.  People  should  have 
plenty  of  money  when  they  get  into  a  book- 
store," Mrs.  Neland  said. 

"  It  is  too  bad,  and  I  had  four  only  last  week ; 
but  I  lent  one  of  them,  to  Fred  Murray,  and  he 
has  not  paid  me." 

"  Mother,"  whispered  little  Mary, — "  I  might 
give  him  one  of  mine  to  make  it  up,  and  when 
Frederick  pays  him,  he  can  pay  me." 

"  And  suppose  Frederick  should  never  do  so  ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  care  if  he  does  not, — I  will 


202  SIGHTS   IN  THE  CITY. 


give  Arthur  a  shilling  and  let  him  buy  that 
book,  because  he  likes  it  so  much,  and  I  can 
spare  the  money." 

"  Do  as  you  choose,  my  darling ;"  and  Mary, 
taking  the  silver  from  her  own  little  purse,  slip- 
ped it  into  her  brother's  hand,  saying  quietly, — 
"  There,  you  can  buy  it  now,  and  I  know  it  is 
a  pretty  book." 

"No,  no,"  said  Arthur, — "  I  won't  take  your 
shilling,"  and  he  tried  to  give  it  back  again,  but 
Mary  insisted  that  she  could  spare  it  very  well, 
and  he  must  have  it ;  and  so  at  last  Arthur  drew 
out  his  own  money,  and  bought  the  book  of 
Fairy  Tales. 

The  bookseller  had  seen  the  transaction  about 
the  shilling,  and  just  as  they  were  going  away, 
he  opened  a  drawer  filled  with  some  pretty  col- 
ored prints.  "  I  should  like  to  give  the  young 
lady  one  of  these,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  if  you 
have  no  objections." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  replied  Mrs. 
Neland.  "  Mary  will  be  much  obliged  to  you, 
I  am  sure." 


SIGHTS   IN   THE   CITY.  203 


Mary  looked  a  little  shy,  but  she  smiled  too, 
and  said  "  Thank  you,"  when  the  good  gentle- 
man rolled  one  of  the  prints  in  paper  and  gave 
it  to  her.  She  thought  it  would  look  very  pret- 
ty hung  up  in  her  little  bed-room,  where  the 
light  could  shine  upon  it. 

"  That  was  Mary's  reward  for  being  so  good- 
natured  as  to  give  me  her  shilling, — don't  you 
think  so,  mother?  "  said  Arthur,  when  they  got 
into  the  street. 

"  I  am  sure  Mary  did  not  think  of  being  re- 
warded," answered  Mrs.  Neland.  "I  am  glad 
the  picture  was  given  to  her,  for  she  deserved 
it ;  but  I  believe  the  pleasure  of  making  you 
happy  would  have  been  a  sufficient  reward, 
without  any  other." 

They  now  walked  on  more  briskly,  as  it  was 
getting  near  five  o'clock, — going  through  many 
streets,  and  seeing  many  things  that  were  new 
to  them.  They  passed  a  boy  who  was  selling 
balloons,  and  Arthur  was  extremely  anxious  to 
buy  one,  as  they  were  only  twenty-five  cents, 
which  he  asked  his  mother  to  lend  him  for  the 


204  SIGHTS   IN  THE   CITY. 


purpose.  Mrs.  Neland  told  him,  however,  that 
he  had  spent  money  enough  for  one  day,  and 
beside,  the  gas  very  soon  escaped  and  they  were 
quite  useless.  So  Arthur  very  reluctantly  went 
on  without  one.  They  met  Mr.  Neland  near 
the  depot.  He  said  he  had  been  waiting  for 
them  about  fifteen  minutes,  and  they  were  in 
good  time  for  the  cars.  Their  ride  home  was 
pleasant,  but  they  were  very  tired,  and  glad  to 
go  to  bed  early,  and  dream  of  all  they  had  seen 
during  their  day  in  the  city. 


XII. 

Jitttn. 


BOUT  a  month  after  their  visit  to  the 
city,  when  it  was  getting  a  little  cold, 
and  the  days  were  getting  shorter,  Ar- 
thur was  sent  by  his  mother  to  carry  a 
few  freshly  laid  eggs  to  a  sick  neighbor. 
Mrs.  Neland  put  them  into  a  small  basket,  and 
told  Arthur  to  carry  them  very  carefully,  since 
the  poor  sick  lady  had  quite  set  her  heart  upon 
them,  and  would  be  sadly  disappointed  if  they 
were  broken.  It  was  rather  a  dark  afternoon, 
and  though  it  was  only  five  o'clock,  it  looked 
later  ;  so  Arthur  was  told  not  to  loiter  by  the 
way,  but  to  walk  briskly  along,  leave  the  basket 
and  his  mother's  message  at  Mrs.  Price's  door, 
and  come  immediately  home  again. 
When  he  was  about  half-way  there,  Arthur 
18  (205) 


206  THE   GREY   KITTEN. 


saw  Fred  Murray,  and  an  older  boy,  corning 
toward  him,  the  latter  of  whom  held  in  his  arms 
a  small  grey  kitten.  They  stopped  as  Arthur 
came  up. 

"What  have  you  got  there?"  Fred  asked. 
Arthur  told  him,  and  asked  in  turn  where  they 
had  got  the  kitten,  and  what  they  were  g"ing 
to  do  with.  it. 

"  That  is  our  business,"  said  the  larger  boy, 
whom  Arthur  now  recollected  as  the  son  of  Mr. 
Bond,  the  carpenter. 

"  We're  going  to  have  some  fun,"  said  Fred, 
rubbing  his  hands,  and  pointing  to  the  cat ; 
"  good  fun,  I  tell  you.  Don't  you  want  to  see 
it?" 

«  See  what?" 

"  Why,  the  kitten — we're  going  to  swing 
her." 

"Oh,  don't!"  said  Arthur;  "she  is  a  pretty 
kitten,  and  it  would  be  so  cruel." 

James  Bond  laughed  a  rude,  coarse  laugh,  as 
Arthur  spoke.  "  Where's  the  harm  of  hanging 
a  useless  cat  ?"  said  he.  "  There's  five  hundred 


THE   GREY   KITTEN.  207 


others  in  the  village  at  this  minute,  I'll  bet — so 
this  will  be  no  loss  ;  besides,  it's  such  sport !" 

"Poor  pussy!"  said  Arthur;  "  don't  kill  her, 
Fred, — give  her  to  me,  and  I'll  carry  her  home 
to  Mary,  she  is  so  fond  of  kittens." 

"  No,  we  are  going  to  hang  her,"  said  James; 
"  come  with  us  and  see.  You  don't  know 
how  she  will  kick!" 

"I  wouldn't  for  the  world!"  said  Arthur, 
earnestly. 

"  What  a  baby  you  are,"  said  the  carpenter's 
son,  laughing  again.  "  Can't  bear  to  see  such  a 
dreadful  sight,  hey  ?  Look  here,  little  one — but 
don't  cry  about  it,  now !"  and  taking  the  un- 
fortunate kitten  by  the  tail,  he  swung  it  round 
and  round,  regardless  of  its  screams. 

"  Poor  thing !"  said  Arthur,  pitifully,  who  had 
been  early  taught  the  sin  of  cruelty  to  animals. 

"  Poh !  it  doesn't  hurt  her  much,"  said  Fred, 
"  and  cats  have  nine  lives,  they  say.  Wait  till 
she  gets  the  string  round  her  neck,  and  then 
you'll  see  fun!" 

"  Do  give  her  to  me,"  Arthur  urged. 


208  THE   GREY   KITTEN. 


"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  answered  Jim  Bond,  rough- 
ly ;  I  got  her  on  purpose  to  hang,  and  we'll  do  it, 
too." 

"You're  a  terrible  baby,  Arthur,"  said  Fred, 
putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  trying  to 
imitate  the  coarse  tone  and  manner  of  his  com- 
panion. "  Why,  our  Will  wouldn't  look  as  you 
do  now,  though  he  is  a  year  younger  than  you. 
Just  as  if  cats  were  worth  anything !" 

"  They  can  feel  pain  as  well  as  we,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Arthur,  indignantly.  "My  mother 
says  so." 

"  What  does  she  know  about  cats  ?" 

"  A  great  deal — she  knows  about  everything  ; 
and  she  told  me  it  was  a  sin  to  torment  any 
living  creature,  just  for  our  own  amusement. 
She  told  me  so  one  day  when  Mary  and  I  were 
catching  flies." 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !"  laughed  James  Bond  again ; 
"  you'll  know  better  than  that  when  you  get  as 
big  as  I  am,"  and  he  thrust  the  kitten  rudely  in- 
to Arthur's  face  as  he  spoke,  crying,  "  Scratch 
him,  cat !  scratch  him !" 


THE  GREY   KITTEN.  209 

Arthur  stepped  back,  attempting  at  the  same 
time  to  seize  the  kitten,  but  in  so  doing  his  arm 
was  caught  by  Fred,  who  stood  laughing  beside 
him, — and  as  Arthur  struggled  to  get  free,  the 
basket  he  held  was  violently  shaken ;  and  pres- 
ently the  broken  eggs  came  dripping  through 
upon  the  ground,  smearing  his  pantaloons,  and 
driving  from  his  thoughts,  for  the  moment,  poor 
pussy  and  her  unlucky  fate. 

"  There !  see  what  you've  done  !"  he  cried, 
angrily.  "You've  broken  all  the  eggs  that  I 
was  taking  to  Mrs.  Price  !" 

"  You'll  catch  it,  young  man,  when  you  get 
home,"  said  James  Bond,  exultingly ;  "you'll 
catch  it !" 

"  It  was  Fred's  fault,  and  yours  ;  what  did  you 
put  the  cat  in  my  face  for,  and  why  did  he  pull 
my  arm  ?  You  have  broken  all  but  one," 
and  Arthur  peeped  into  the  basket  with  a  rue- 
ful face. 

"Your  mother  will  take  the  price  of  them  out 
of  your  pocket  with  a  cat-o'nine-tails !" 

"  She  will  not,  but  I  am  as  sorry  as  if  she  did. 
18* 


210  THE   GREY  KITTEN. 


They  were  for  a  sick  lady,  Mrs.  Price,  and 
mother  told  me  to  be  careful." 

"  There,  now,  he  is  going  to  cry,  I  do  believe," 
said  Fred.  And  it  must  be  confessed,  Arthur 
did  look  very  much  like  crying. 

"  Best  get  along  home,  and  tell  it's  ma,"  said 
the  carpenter's  boy,  patting  Arthur's  head. 
"  Pick  up  your  eggs,  man,  and  stop  your  whin- 
ing. One  might  take  you  for  a  sucking  cal£ 
Come,  Fred."  And  laughing  loudly,  the  two 
lads  walked  away,  leaving  Arthur  to  his  own 
unpleasant  reflections,  and  in  some  doubt  what 
he  should  do  next. 

At  first,  he  felt  inclined  to  run  directly  home, 
and  turned  to  do  so ;  but  then  he  recollected  his 
mother  had  told  him  how  anxious  Mrs..  Price 
was  to  get  the  eggs,  and  that  sick  people's  fan- 
cies should  always  be  gratified,  if  possible.  So 
he  thought  that  one  egg  would  be  better  than 
none,  and  brushing  back  the  tears,  which  would 
come  into  his  eyes  though  he  tried  hard  to  help 
it,  he  walked  on  to  Mrs.  Price's  house.  Here 
he  told  his  story  to  Mrs.  Price's  mother,  who 


THE  GREY  KITTEN.  211 


opened  the  door.  The  old  lady  was  very  sorry 
to  hear  how  it  had  all  happened,  but  said  he 
must  not  mind  it,  since  her  daughter  could  only 
eat  one,  even  if  he  had  brought  a  dozen ;  which 
assurance  was  very  comforting  to  Arthur  under 
the  circumstances. 

On  his  way  back  he  was  also  glad  to  see  the 
grey  kitten  scampering  along,  and  jumping  over 
a  fence,  having  probably  escaped  from  the  boys 
before  they  could  execute  their  cruel  purpose, 
for  it  looked  very  much  frightened,  and  ran  very 
fast.  Arrived  at  home,  Arthur  walked  directly 
into  the  sitting-room,  where  his  mother  and  Mary 
were  at  work. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  I  met  with  a  misfortune, 
and  I  want  to  tell  you  how  it  happened.  All 
the  eggs  were  accidentally  broken,  but  it  wasn't 
my  fault,  and  I  am  determined  never  to  speak 
with  Fred  Murray  again  as  long  as  I  live.  He 
is  a  cruel,  wicked  boy,  and  was  going  to  hang  a 
pretty  grey  kitten,  and  I  wanted  to  save  its  life  ; 
and  Jim  Bond, — you  know  Mr.  Bond,  the  car- 
penter, mother, — well,  his  son,  and  he  is  an  aw- 


212  THE   GREY   KITTEN. 


fully  bad  fellow, — he  pushed  the  cat  in  my  face, 
and  then  Fred  caught  my  arm — " 

"Mercy  on  us,  Arthur!  do  stop  and  take 
breath,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  laughing.  "  The 
words  come  galloping  out  of  your  mouth  so  fast, 
they  will  choke  you !" 

"  Well,  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you,"  said  Arthur, 
in  a  calmer  tone,  "  how  it  happened  that  the 
eggs  were  broken,  and  that  it  was  Fred's  fault, 
for  he  caught  my  arm,  and  the  basket  too,  and 
they  all  knocked  together  somehow,  and  the 
yolks  came  dripping  through  upon  my  trowsers, 
and  upon  my  word  and  honor,  mother,  I  couldn't 
help  it,  and  I  am  very  sorry." 

"I  am  sorry,  too,"  said  his  mother,  "for  Mrs. 
Price,  whose  appetite  is  so  small,  was  disap- 
pointed in  not  having  them  for  her  supper." 

"  No,  ma'am,  there  was  one  left,  and  I  carried 
it  straight  down  to  her.  And  I  saw  old  Mrs. 
Green,  and  she  said  it  was  no  matter,  because 
Mrs.  Price  didn't  want  any  more  than  one." 

"  That  is  fortunate,  but  I  hoped  she  would 
have  them  for  breakfast  too." 


THE   GREY   KITTEN.  213 


"  May-be  Mary's  white  hen  will  lay  one  in 
the  morning,"  said  Arthur,  eagerly,  "  and  if  she 
does,  I'll  run  away  with  it  at  once." 

"I  told  you  not  to  loiter  by  the  way,"  said 
Mrs.  Neland,  gravely.  "  Perhaps  if  you  had  not 
stopped  to  talk  with  Fred,  my  eggs  would  not 
have  been  broken." 

"  It  was  Fred  who  stopped  me,  and  did  the 
mischief." 

"  And  the  grey  kitten,"  said  Mary. 

"  Why,  that  was  the  cause  of  it  all." 

"  But  how  ?  tell  us  how.  Begin  at  the  begin- 
ning,"— a  way  which  Mary  always  liked  when 
anything  was  to  be  told. 

So  Arthur  began  at  the  beginning,  and  gave  a 
plain  account  of  his  adventure.  "  And  mother," 
he  said  as  he  concluded,  "  I  have  done  with  the 
Murrays  for  ever.  Fred  is  a  mean,  cowardly 
fellow,  and  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind 
never  to  go  to  their  house  again,  or  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  them." 

"  Dear  me !  that  is  quite  a  resolution,"  said 
Mrs.  Neland,  "  if  you  should  keep  it." 


214  THE   GREY   KITTEN. 


"  You'll  see  if  I  don't !"  I  shall  never  speak 
to  them  again." 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  play  with  rude  boys, 
but  then,  you  need  not  be  impolite  or  unforgiv- 
ing." 

"  I  wish  they  had  never  come  to  Sunny  brook 
—I  know  that !" 

"  Why,  Arthur,  what  a  child  you  are ;  you 
were  delighted  when  mother  told  you  they 
were  coming,"  said  Mary.  "  Don't  you  remem- 
ber, mother,  how  he  teased  you  to  take  him 
there  ?" 

"  Well,  I've  changed  my  mind  since  then," 
said  Arthur.  "  I  thought  they  were  nice  fellows 
to  play  with  when  they  first  came." 

"  I  never  liked  them,"  said  Mary,  "  never  !  The 
very  first  day  we  went  there,  I  knew  they  were 
bad  children,  they  quarrelled  so  dreadfully." 

"Mary  is  a  wise  little  woman,  you  know," 
said  Mrs.  Neland,  smiling ;  "  and  I  see  another 
wise  little  lady  coming  in  at  the  gate,  with  her 
mother,  to  drink  tea  with  us ;  so  run  away,  Ar- 
thur, and  wash  the  egg  from  your  fingers  and 


THE   GREY   KITTEN.  215 


clothes,  that  you  may  be  ready  to  play  with  some 
really  good  children." 

Arthur  went  immediately  off  to  make  himself 
look  neat,  and  Mary  ran  to  open  the  door  for 
Mrs.  Coleman  and  Kitty,  and  Fanny  Lee,  Mrs. 
Coleman's  neice,  who  had  come  to  sj.»end  a  socia- 
ble evening  with  them. 


XIII. 

at 


)HIS  evening,  at  Mrs.  Neland's,  was  a  very 
pleasant  one,  and,  if  I  guess  rightly,  you 
would  like  to  know  what  was  said  and 
done  by  the  merry  party  who  were  there. 
And  first  they  all  said,  "  How  do  you 
do  ?"  and  "  Come  in  —  we  are  so  glad  to  see  you," 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ;  and  Mary  carried  the 
hoods  and  shawls  up  stairs,  and  laid  them  on  the 
bed  in  her  mother's  room,  and  then  ran  down 
again  to  the  little  girls,  who,  in  the  mean  time, 
had  discovered  one  of  the  dollies  in  its  cradle  in 
a  corner  of  the  sitting-room,  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  it. 

A  small  fire  was  burning  on  the  hearth,  which 
threw  its  cheerful  light  over  the  apartment.  Mrs. 
Neland  drew  the  arm-chair  towards  it  for  Mrs. 

(216) 


AN   EVENING   AT  HOME.  217 


Colemap,  who  sat  down,  and  pretty  soon  drew 
out  her  knitting.  Mrs.  Neland  also  took  up  the 
sewing  she  had  laid  aside  when  her  guests  ar- 
rived, and  so  they  worked  and  chatted,  while  the 
little  girls  amused  themselves  with  the  dollies, — 
Mary  having  brought  down  Fanny  Fair,  too,  as 
it  was  a  special  occasion. 

Prsently  Arthur  came  in,  looking  very  fresh 
and  neat;  and,  as  it  was  getting  dark,  Mrs.  No- 
land  rang  the  bell  for  Susan  to  light  the  lamp, 
and  when  the  light  came  there  was  a  chattering 
of  little  voices,  and  questions  of  "  "What  shall  we 
play?"  "Will  you  be  the  mother?"  "May 
I  have  Fanny  Fair  for  my  child  ?"  "  May  I  have 
Miss  Eose  for  mine  ?"  and  so  on.  Then  Mary 
ran  and  whispered  something  in  her  mother's 
ear,  and  Mrs.  Neland  smiled,  and  said,  "  Yes,  I 
suppose  you  can — I  will  see ;"  and  calling  Su- 
san she  whispered  something  to  her,  to  which 
Susan  replied,  "  Yes,  ma'am,  I  guess  I  can  fix  it ;" 
and  Mary,  clapping  her  hands,  ran  back  -to  her 
side  of  the  room,  where  Fanny  Lee  and  herself 
had  their  house.  Kitty  had  another  corner,  and 
19 


218  AN  EVENING  AT  HOME. 


urged  Arthur  to  play  with  her;  but  this  the 
young  gentleman  entirely  refused  to  do,  and  pre- 
ferred reading  by  himself  at  the  centre-table,  than 
joining  in  any  girls'  play.  So  Kitty  went  on 
with  her  household  arrangements  without  him. 

At  six  o'clock  Mr.  Neland  came  from  the  city, 
and  then  there  was  another  shaking  of  hands  all 
round.  In  a  minute  Mary  was  in  her  accus- 
tomed seat  on  his  knee,  with  both  arms  around 
his  neck,  taking  what  she  called  "  a  good  kiss." 
Mr.  Neland  held  her  very  tightly,  and  rubbed 
her  cheeks  with  his  rough  beard,  which  made 
lie?  squeal  like  a  little  pig.  Kitty's  turn  came 
next,  so  they  had  a  fine  romp ;  but  Mr.  Neland 
did  not  play  with  Fanny  in  that  way,  because 
she  was  something  of  a  stranger,  her  home  being 
at  some  distance,  and  she  came  occasionally  to 
pay  a  visit  to  her  aunt  and  cousin. 

By  the  time  the  fun  was  over,  and  the  girls 
had  gone  back  to  their  corners,  the  bell  rang  for 
tea,  which  was  a  joyful  sound  to  all  the  party  ; 
and  they  walked  into  the  dining-room,  where  Su- 
san had  spread  the  table  with  a  delightful  tea,  such 


AN   EVENING  AT  HOME.  219 


as  country  folks  know  how  to  enjoy.  Indeed, 
there  were  two  tables,  a  small  one  on  which  Ma- 
ry's pretty  China  tea-set  was  placed,  and  where 
the  children  were  to  drink  tea  by  themselves,  and 
Mary  to  pour  out,  of  course ;  and  this  I  suppose 
was  the  request  she  had  whispered  to  her  moth- 
er. So  they  all  sat  down,  and  when  Mr.  Neland 
had  said  grace  the  business  of  eating  commenced. 
At  first,  Mary  was  rather  awkward  in  presiding 
at  her  own  tea-table,  and  even  with  Susan's  help 
it  was  quite  an  affair  to  fill  four  cups,  and  put  in 
the  necessary  quantity  of  milk  and  sugar ;  and 
Arthur  was  equally  long  in  putting  the  preserves 
on  each  tiny  plate,  from  the  pretty  little  glass 
dish  in  the  centre  of  the  table,  and  helping  the 
girls.  Still,  everything  went  on  very  nicely,  and 
such  a  supper  as  they  all  made,  it  was  quite  sur- 
prising to  behold.  They  had  hot  biscuits,  but- 
tered toast,  two  kinds  of  cake,  preserves,  cheese, 
tongue,  and  other  things  beside,  I  believe,  so 
that  Mrs.  Coleman  had  to  caution  them  many 
times  not  to  eat  more  than  was  good  for  them. 
Then  there  was  a  deal  of  joking  between  Mary 


220  AN   EVENING  AT  HOME. 


and  her  father  about  housekeeping,  and  which  was 
the  best, — Mary  or  her  mother ;  and  Mr.  Neland 
made  believe  he  had  forgotten,  and  sent  his  cup 
to  Mary  for  more  tea  instead  of  Mrs.  Neland,  and 
this  made  them  all  laugh  tremendously.  When 
people  get  into  a  merry  mood,  the  least  trifle  will 
set  them  laughing ;  and  so  the  children  were 
prepared  for  a  general  outburst  ofmir  that  every- 
thing Mr.  Neland  said  or  did, — and  Fanny  Lee 
whispered  to  Kitty,  that  he  was  the  funniest 
man  she  had  ever  seen. 

At  last,  when  they  had  all  eaten  enough,  and 
more  than  enough,  they  went  back  into  the  parlor 
again.  Here  the  lamp  was  burning  brightly,  and 
as  Arthur  saw  his  father's  shadow  on  the  wall, 
he  cried  out,  "  Oh,  let  us  play  shadow-buff!" 

Now,  in  playing  shadow-buff,  one  person  sits 
with  his  face  to  the  wall,  and,  as  others  in  the 
room  pass  between  him  and  the  light,  their  shad- 
ows are  thrown  upon  the  wall,  and  he  is  to  guess 
who  it  is  as  each  one  crosses  behind  his  chair. 
Of  course  each  tries  to  disguise  himself,  that  the 

person  guessing  may  not  find  him  out.     Mrs. 
°     .     " 


AN  EVENING  AT  HOME.  221 


Neland  said,  as  Arthur  had  proposed  the  game, 
he  should  be  the  first  to  guess.  So  they  placed 
the  light  in  such  a  way  that  a  deep  shadow  might 
be  thrown,  and  Arthur  took  his  seat. 

"  That  is  Mary,"  he  cried,  as  some  one  passed 
softly  behind  him. 

"  "Wrong  1"  cried  everybody. 

"  Then  it  was  Fanny." 

"  Ah,  you  can  only  have  one  guess." 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Coleman." 

"No." 

"  That  is  Kitty." 

"No." 

"  I  am  sure  that  was  Kitty.    Who  is  that  ?" 

"  Guess !  guess !" 

"  Mother,  that  was  you." 

"  No,"  laughed  everybody.  It  was  Mr.  Ne- 
land,  with  his  wife's  shawl  over  his  shoulders, 
and  her  head-dress  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  What  in  the  world  is  that  ?"     There  was  a 

scream  of  delight  from  all  the  girls.     Placing 

one  of  the  sofa  pillows  on  his  head,  upon  which 

Mrs.  Neland  put  her  work-basket,  and  stooping 

19* 


222  AN  EVENING  AT  HOME. 


to  lessen  his  height,  Mr.  Neland  again  passed 
slowly  behind  the  chair. 

"  Now,  I  know  that  was  Mrs.  Coleman." 

"  No,  it  was  not." 

"  Fanny  Lee,"  cried  Arthur. 

"  No,  it  was  me,"  laughed  Mary. 

A  tall  figure,  with  a  man's  hat  on,  is  now 
seen  upon  the  wall. 

"  Mother  1"  exclaimed  Arthur. 

"  Mother  is  not  so  tall  as  that,"  said  Mary. 

"  She  walked  on  tip-toe,  then  ;  I  know  it  was 
mother,"  said  Arthur,  springing  up;  and  Mrs. 
Neland,  thus  detected,  took  her  seat.  Soon  Kit- 
ty was  discovered,  and  compelled  to  take  Mrs. 
Neland's  place;  then  Mary,  then  Mr.  Neland, 
and  each  in  turn  became  the  guesser.  Mr.  Cole- 
man came  in  while  they  were  playing,  and  he 
joined  them,  and  a  merry  time  they  had  of  it 
Such  grotesque  figures  Mr.  Neland  and  Mr. 
Coleman  made,  in  order  to  deceive  the  person 
who  guessed,  as  called  forth  continual  shouts  of 
laughter  from  the  children ;  altogether  it  was  a 
most  amusing  game. 


AN  EVENING  AT  HOME.  223 


At  last  they  all  grew  tired,  even  of  the  fun, 
and  when  the  older  persons  went  back  to  the 
centre-table,  and  the  ladies  wanted  the  lamp  in 
order  to  resume  their  work,  the  children  fol- 
lowed, and  Mary  brought  some  pictures  for  them 
to  look  at.  Arthur,  however,  thought  this  a 
very  dull  amusement. 

"  "Where's  the  use.  Mary,"  said  he,  "  of  por- 
ing over  these  stupid  books.  I'm  sure  there  is 
no  pleasure  in  such  pictures.  Let  us  do  some- 
thing!" 

"  There  is  nothing  to  do,  is  there  ?"  answered 
Mary;  "  and  besides,  Fanny  asked  me  for  the 
book.  She  wanted  to  see  the  winter  pictures." 

"  What  are  you  reading,  Fanny  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Coleman. 

"  Ma'am  ?"  answered  Fanny,  without  looking 
up. 

"  That  child  never  hears  a  word  that  is  said 
to  her,  if  she  has  a  book,"  observed  Mrs.  Cole- 
man. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me,  aunt  Sarah  ?"  asked 
Fanny,  raising  her  head. 


224  AN  EVENING  AT  HOME. 


"  I  asked  what  you  were  reading." 

"  Oh,  did  you,  ma'am  ?  I  didn't  hear  you.  I 
was  only  reading  a  piece  of  poetry  in  this  book." 

"  Eead  it  to  me,  won't  you,"  whispered  Kitty, 
who  did  not  read  very  well  herself. 

"Hush,  I  can't,"  replied  Fanny,  looking 
frightened  at  the  thought  of  reading  aloud  be- 
fore so  many  persons. 

"  Please  do,"  urged  the  little  girl. 

"What  is  it  you  wish  to  hear,  Kitty?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Neland,  who  had  observed  the 
whisper. 

"  What  Fanny  was  reading." 

"  Give  me  the  book  and  I  will  try ;"  and  Mrs. 
Neland  kindly  read  for  Kitty  and  Mary, — 

«fce    SuK  fifcilb's    Mi^. 

"  Dear  mother,  draw  the  curtain  close, 

And  shut  the  light  away — 
The  sun  glares  in  our  little  room 

So  terribly  to-day, 
I  never  felt  his  heat  so  much  ; 

Dear  mother,  come  and  lay 
Your  hand  upon  my  throbbing  head, 
And  sit  awhile  beside  my  bed. 


AN   EVENING  AT  HOME.  225 


"  Last  night  I  scarcely  slept  at  all, 

My  head  was  aching  so ; 
Oh,  how  I  wished  'twas  winter- time, 

That  I  might  rise  and  go 
Out  by  the  door-step  stealthily 

To  bathe  it  in  the  snow : 
I  called  you,  but  you  did  not  hear, 
You  were  so  weary,  mother  dear. 

"  How  long  it  seemed  to  wateh  the  hours,— 

They  crept  so  slowly  by ; 
I  heard  them  from  the  steeples  toll, 

And  oh,  how  wearily, 
How  wearily  I  counted  them, 

Wishing  they  would  but  fly, 
And  the  grey  dawning  I  might  see, 
When  you  would  rise  and  come  to  me. 

''  And  yet  I  had  some  pleasant  thoughts, — 

I  fancied  that  I  lay 
Beside  the  spring  at  our  old  home, 

And  heard  its  waters  play, 
And  bathed  my  hot  hands  in  the  flood, 

Or  held  them  in  the  spray, 
And  plucked  the  lilies  from  its  brink, 
Or  wove  a  leafy  cup,  to  drink. 

"  Do  you  remember  all  the  flowers, 

The  many  flowers  that  grew 

Beside  that  little  silvery  spring, — 

The  violets,  white  and  blue, 


226  AN  EVENING  AT  HOME. 


That  were  so  fresh  and  beautiful 

At  morning  'mid  the  dew  ? 
Dear  mother,  shall  we  ever  go 
Again  to  where  those  violets  blow  ? 

"  I  long  so  often  for  a  breath 
Of  that  sweet  mountain  air, 

I  seem  to  feel  it  fan  my  cheek 
And  frolic  with  my  hair, — 

I  am  so  weary  of  the  town, 
And  it  is  summer  there ! 

Mother,  you  shake  your  head  and  sigh, 

And  there's  a  tear-drop  in  your  eye. 

"  You  cannot  go,  for  you  must  work 

All  day  to  buy  us  bread ; 
Could  we  not  live  at  our  old  home 

On  fruits  and  herbs  instead  ? 
I  think  you  would  not  sigh  so  much, 

Nor  press  your  aching  head  ; 
The  very  breeze  would  cure  your  pain, 
And  you  might  learn  to  smile  again. 

"  But  if  we  may  not,  must  not  go, 

Dear  mother,  will  you  try 
Some  day  a  pot  of  summer  flowers 

For  your  sick  child  to  buy, — 
And  place  it  on  the  window  seat, 

Where  it  will  meet  my  eye  ? 
And  I  will  fancy  that  they  grew 
Among  the  violets,  fresh  and  blue. 


AN  EVENING  AT  HOME.  227 


"  And,  mother,  there  is  yet  a  wish 

I've  thought  upon  for  hours; 
If  I  should  die,  oh,  bury  me 

Among  the  grass  and  flowers, — 
Among  the  sweet  blue  violets, 

Where  fall  the  softest  showers, 
And  the  cool  winds  go  wandering  by — 
There,  dearest  mother,  let  me  lie." 

"  What  a  dismal  story !"  exclaimed  Arthur, 
as  his  mother  ceased  reading.  "  I  declare,  Mary 
and  Kitty  are  both  crying.  You  know  Mary 
always  cries  over  her  story  books." 

"  It  is  rather  a  melancholy  affair,"  said  Mrs. 
Neland.  "  Let  me  see,  my  tender-hearted  little 
lassie, — are  you  really  crying  ?" 

"  Not  quifce,  said  Mary ;"  but  her  mother  saw 
an  unusual  moisture  in  the  pair  of  blue  eyes 
that  looked  up  at  her  from  the  opposite  side  of 
the  table. 

"  Come,  come,  shut  up  the  books,  and  let  us 
have  some  more  fun,"  cried  Arthur,  running 
away  with  several  from  the  table  and  slipping 
them  into  the  book-case.  "Father,  won't  you 
show  us  the  magic  lantern?" 


228  AN  EVENING  AT  HOME. 


"Oh,  father,  do!  do!"  cried  Mary.  "We 
haven't  seen  it  in  so  long  !" 

"  Please  do,  Mr.  Neland,"  echoed  Kitty,  while 
Fanny,  though  she  did  not  utter  a  word,  showed 
her  wishes  in  her  face. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Mr.  Ne- 
land, in  a  doubtful  tone.  "  Do  you  want  it  very 
much  ?  I  am  afraid  it  will  take  some  time  to  fix 
it." 

"  Only  a  few  minutes,  sir,  and  we  will  help 
you,"  Arthur  and  Mary  cried  in  a  breath. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  rather  late  for  such  an  ehhi- 
bition,"  said  Mr.  Coleman,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"  Half-past  eight — little  folks  must  npt  sit  up  too 
long,  you  know." 

"  Oh !  it  is  not  late  at  all — it  is  quite  early. 
Do  let  us  have  the  magic  lantern  !"  the  children 
all  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  well,  then  ;  come  on,  Master  Arthur, 
into  the  dining-room,  and  we  will  set  about  it." 

"I  will  ring  the  bell  when  we  are  ready,"  said 
Arthur,  While  they  were  gone,  the  girls  went 
to  Mary's  endless  source  of  pleasure,  the 


AN   EVENING  AT  HOME.  229 


dolls ;  but  they  were  all  so  eager  in  listening  for 
the  bell,  they  could  really  fix  their  thoughts  on 
nothing  else.  Presently  there  was  a  violent 
tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle,  and  they  all  rushed  to  the 
door. 

"  Bah!''  said  Arthur,  laughing,  as  their  eager 
faces  met  his  mischievous  one.  "  Not  ready  yet !" 

"  You  rogue  !"  said  Mary,  and  they  ran  back 
into  the  parlor.  After  a  few  minutes,  the  bell 
again  sounded,  but  thinking  it  another  trick,  the 
girls  were  afraid  to  venture  out.  This  time,  how- 
ever, it  was  an  actual  summons,  and  they  fol- 
lowed Mrs.  Neland  and  Mrs.  Coleman  into  the 
dining-room.  The  room  was  quite  dark,  except 
the  round  spot  of  light  on  a  white  table-cloth, 
against  the  opposite  wall.  The  chairs  were  all 
arranged  facing  the  light,  and  as  they  entered, 
Mr.  Neland  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  as- if  address- 
ing a  large  audience — "  Ladies  and  gentlemen ! 
pray,  be  seated,  and  we  will  proceed  to  show 
you  the  wonders  of  our  celebrated  magic  lan- 
tern. This  lantern,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  was  a 
present  from  the  Great  Mogul,  to  Arthur 
20 


230  AN   EVENING  AT  HOME. 


Neland,  Esq.,  who  has  much  pleasure  in  exhibit- 
ing it  to  this  large  and  highly  respectable  assem- 
bly." At  this,  all  the  company  clapped  their 
hands  very  loudly. 

"  The  first  picture  we  propose  to  present  to  you 
this  evening,"  continued  Mr.  Neland,  "  represents 
a  party  of  banditti,  exceedingly  fierce  and  wild, 
at  the  sight  of  which,  it  is  hoped,  none  of  the 
ladies  will  either  scream,  or  faint,  as  they  are 
perfectly  harmless,  being  only  painted  on  glass." 

"  I  hope  you  have  some  fans  ready,  Mr.  Show- 
man, in  case  of  such  a  catastrophe,"  said  Mrs. 
Neland. 

"  Plenty,  ma'am — all  sorts  of  conveniences  for 
such  occasions,"  replied  the  exhibitor ;  "  we 
study  to  please  everybody." 

"  Then  we  shall  certainly  come  again,"  said 
Mrs.  Coleman. 

"  Thank  you,  madam.  Now,  Arthur  Neland, 
Esq.,  pray  proceed,"  and  the  picture  appeared 
upon  the  wall. 

The  girls  were  delighted,  and  the  ladies  ex- 
claimed, "  Dear  me,  what  a  splendid  sight  I  well, 


AN  EVENING  AT  HOME.  231 


I  never  saw  anything  like  it  in  all  my  life  I" 
Picture  after  picture  followed,  and  all  were 
loudly  applauded.  Every  one  said,  they  were 
beautiful !  wonderful  1  enchanting  !  Mary  and 
Kitty  wanted  to  see  them  all  over  again,  but 
this  could  not  be ;  and  when  it  was  all  through, 
and  they  had  gone  back  into  the  parlor,  Mrs. 
Coleman  said  it  was  time  to  bid  good-night. 
But  just  then  Susan  appeared  at  the  door  with  a 
tray  of  nuts  and  apples,  and  they  were  obliged 
to  stay  for  that,  of  course ;  and  while  they  were 
eating,  Mr.  Neland  told  them  a  funny  story,  and 
Mr.  Coleman  sang  a  funny  song, — and  it  was 
nearly  ten  o'clock  when  Mrs.  Coleman  said  they 
must  go,  or  Fanny  and  Kitty  would  not  be  up 
in  time  for  the  cars,  as  Fanny  was  going  home 
the  next  day,  and  Kitty  was  to  accompany  her 
as  far  as  the  city.  Arthuf  therefore  brought 
the  cloaks  and  hoods,  and  after  a  great  many 
good-byes,  and  assurances  that  all  had  passed  a 
pleasant  evening,  the  guests  departed,  and 
Arthur  and  Mary,  kissing  their  parents  good- 
night, ran  up  to  bed,  and  were  soon  fast  asleep. 


XIV. 


DAY  or  two  after  the  evening  party  at 
Mr.  Neland's,  the  children  walked  with 
their  mother  into  the  farthest  part  of 
the  village,  to  carry  some  work  to  a  poor 
widow  whom  Mrs.  Neland  sometimes 
employed;  and  as  they  came  back,  and  passed 
Mr.  Murray's  house,  Frederick  was  standing  at 
the  gate.  He  said  his  mother  was  sick,  so  Mrs. 
Neland  went  in  to  see  her.  Mrs.  Murray  was 
lying  on  a  sofa  in  the  parlor,  groaning,  with  pain 
in  the  head,  and  Becky  stood  beside  her  bathing 
it  with  vinegar,  and  trying  to  console  and  com- 
fort the  sick  lady  as  much  as  possible. 

"  I'm   sure  you'll  soon  be  better,  ma'am,  if 
you'll  only  let  me  put  this  on  your  head.     Yin 

(232) 


SCHOOL   AGAIN.  233 


egar  is  so  good  for  the  headache."  As  Becky 
spoke,  she  looked  up  and  saw  Mrs.  Neland. 
"And  here  is  Mrs.  Neland  come  to  see  you, 
ma'am,"  she  continued;  "she'll  do  you  good, 
I'll  be  bound." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  find  you  suffering  so 
much,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  sitting  down  in  the 
chair  which  Becky  placed  for  her.  "  What  is 
the  matter  ?  " 

"Oh,  such  a  headache ! "  said  Mrs.  Murray. 

"I've  sent  John  for  the  doctor,"  said  Becky, 
"  and  I  wish  to  gracious  he'd  come." 

"  I  think  it  is  a  nervous  pain,"  said  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, faintly,  "  the  children  worried  me  so  much 
this  morning." 

"Ah,  them  boys,"  said  Becky, — "they  are 
enough  to  set  anybody  crazy,  I'm  sure,  especially 
your  poor  head,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Neland  took  off  her  gloves,  and,  sending 
Becky  for  some  cold  water,  determined  to  stay 
herself  with  Mrs.  Murray,  at  least  until  the  doctor 
came,  desiring  Arthur  and  Mary  to  go  home 
without  her.  Scarcely  had  they  gone,  however, 
20* 


234  SCHOOL  AGAIN. 


and  Mrs.  Murray  begun  to  feel  a  little  easier, 
from  the  cold  water  upon  her  forehead,  when 
Frederick  burst  into  the  room  exclaiming, — 

"  Ma,  there's  a  man  out  here  with  oranges  to 
sell,  and  I  want  one ;  just  give  me  ten  cents, 
quick." 

"  Oh,  child,  don't  worry  me  now,"  said  his 
mother. 

"I  can  get  it,  if  you'll  just  give  me  your 
purse." 

"Do  go  away,  Frederick — you  sha'n't  have 
it,  I  tell  you,  and  my  head  is  so  bad." 

"  Well,  I  only  want  your  purse,"  persisted  the 
boy,  rummaging  in  the  work-basket,  which  stood 
upon  the  table. 

"Let  that  basket  alone,"  said  Mrs.  Murray, 
raising  herself  a  moment,  and  then  sinking  back 
among  the  sofa  pillows.  "  You  must  not  touch 
my  purse." 

"Frederick,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "you  should 
not  disturb  your  mother  in  this  way,"  and  she 
took  the  basket  from  him,  but  not  in  time  to 
secure  the  purse. 


SCHOOL  AGAIN.  235 


"  I  only  want  ten  cents,"  said  the  young  gen- 
tleman, deliberately  emptying  the  contents  upon 
the  table ;  and  while  his  mother  languidly  for- 
bade him,  and  Mrs.  N  eland  expressed  her  sur- 
prise at  such  conduct,  he  coolly  helped  himself 
to  the  silver  he  wanted  and  ran  out  of  the  room, 
leaving  his  mother  nearly  crying,  with  pain  and 
vexation,  and  Mrs.  Neland  utterly  amazed  at 
such  bold  disobedience. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  with  that 
boy,"  groaned  Mrs.  Murray. 

"It  is  a  pity  you  have  not  taught  him  to  be 
more  obedient,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  I  wish  I  had,  but  then  I  am  sick  so  often," 
sighed  Mrs.  Murray. 

"Lie  still,  now,  and  be  quiet,"  replied  Mrs. 
"Neland,  "-or  your  head  will  never  get  well." 

"  Ah,  if  I  only  knew  how  to  manage  them," 
again  sighed  the  unhappy  mother, — "  but  they 
have  always  been  too  much  for  me,  and  since  we 
came  here  Fred  has  got  into  bad  company,  and 
is  worse  than  ever." 

I  would  not   talk  any  more  about  it,"  said 


236  SCHOOL  AGAIN. 


Mrs.  Neland,  "and  besides,  here  comes  the 
doctor." 

The  doctor,  however,  proved  to  be  only  Master 
"Will,  who  now  ran  in,  loudly  demanding  another 
ten  cents,  to  buy  an  orange  for  himself.  Mrs. 
Murray  at  this  put  her  hands  to  her  head,  crying 
out,  "  Oh,  go  away,  or  you  will  certainly  kill 
me." 

"  Fred  had  one,  and  I  ought  to  have  one,  too," 
said  the  boy,  beginning  to  cry. 

"  I  think  that  would  be  right,"  said  Mrs. 
Neland,  thinking  it  best  for  her  to  settle  the 
matter;  "so  I  will  give  William  one,  if  you 
please." 

"  Just  as  you  think  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, in  a  low  tone.  "  I  cannot  attend  to  it  now." 
Mrs.  Neland  accordingly  took  the  purse  from 
William  who  had  found  it  on  the  table,  saying, — 

"  You  must  be  quiet,  and  ask  properly  for 
this,  William,  or  I  shall  not  give  it  to  you.  I 
am  sorry  to  see  how  little  either  of  you  care  for 
your  sick  mother." 

Will  looked  ashamed,  but  he  held  down  his 


SCHOOL  AGAIN.  237 

head  and  growled  out  again,  "  I  don't  care — • 
Fred  has  one,  and  I  ought  to  have  one,  too." 

"  So  you  shall,  if  you  are  polite  and  ask  for 
it  as  you  should,  but  not  else,"  said  Mrs.  Neland, 
firmly.  "  You  know  I  always  say  exactly  what 
I  mean." 

"  It  is  my  mother's  money,  and  not  yours," 
said  Will  sulkily. 

"  So  it  is,  but  as  your  mother  is  sick,  she 
wishes  me  to  decide  for  her.  Now  I  decide  that 
you  are  to  ask  for  it,  or  not  to  have  it,  just  which 
you  choose." 

There  was  something  in  Mrs.  Neland's  tone 
and  manner  which  showed  Will  she  was  resolute, 
and  fearing  the  orange-man  would  be  gone,  he 
swallowed  down  his  pride,  and  said,  gruffly,  "  If 
you  please,  ma'am," — then  snatching  the  money 
from  Mrs.  Neland,  ran  hastily  out  of  the  room. 
Again  Mrs.  Murray  sighed,  and  said  she  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  them. 

"Perhaps  if  you  were  not  so  indulgent,  it 
would  be  better,"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  gently. 

"  Perhaps  so." 


238  SCHOOL  AGAIN. 


"  Don't  talk,  it  will  make  you  worse." 

"  I  am  sure  these  children  are  enough  to  kill 
her  outright,"  whispered  Becky,  coming  in  at 
the  moment  with  some  cologne  water. 

"Hush!"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "you  must  not 
talk  either,  Becky.  Look  out,  now,  and  see  if 
the  doctor  is  coming." 

"Just  driving  up  to  the  door,  ma'am,"  and 
she  ran  to  open  it.  Mrs.  Neland  stayed  till  the 
doctor  was  gone,  and  they  had  assisted  Mrs. 
Murray  to  her  own  room,  where  she  soon  became 
easier,  and  fell  asleep ;  and  then,  leaving  her  in 
Becky's  care,  Mrs.  Neland  hastened  to  her  own 
house,  and  found  her  husband  and  children  im- 
patiently waiting  for  her. 

As  they  gathered  round  the  tea-table  an  hour 
afterward,  Mr.  Neland  took  a  letter  from  his 
pocket.  "  Well,  children,"  said  he,  "  what  do 
you  say  about  school  once  more  ?  Mamma,  we 
are  to  have  a  new  teacher,  and  this  letter  is  from 
her." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "  do  read  it  for 
us.  See  how  delighted  the  children  are  at  the 


SCHOOL  AGAIN.  239 


thought  of  such  a  thing!  why,  Mary  is  quite 
beaming  with  joy,  and  Arthur  cannot  express 
his  satisfaction." 

Mrs.  Neland  spoke  jestingly,  for  both  Arthur 
and  his  sister  looked  rather  grave  at  the  idea  of 
school  again. 

""Why  can't  we  study  at  home  all  winter?" 
asked  Mary. 

"  I  am  sure  we  learn  quite  as  much,"  said 
Arthur. 

"Not  quite,  I  think,"  replied  his  mother, 
"  and  there  are  some  other  reasons  why  school 
is  best.  But  let  us  hear  the  letter,  if  you  please, 
papa ;"  and  Mr.  Neland  read  aloud : 

"  MR.  CHARLES  NELAND  : — 

"Dear  Sir, — The  letter  from  your  committee 
I  have  received,  and,  after  due  consideration, 
have  decided  to  accept  the  situation  of  teacher 
in  your  school  at  Sunnybrook.  I  shall  be  ready 
to  enter  upon  my  duties  on  the  first  of  Novem- 
ber, and  hope  to  give  satisfaction. 
"  Very  respectfully  yours, 

"  ELIZABETH  Ross." 


240  SCHOOL   AGAIN. 



"  Miss  Ross ! "  said  Mrs.  Neland ;  "  well,  I  am 
very  glad  she  is  coming.  She  is  so  pleasant, 
and  such  an  excellent  teacher." 

"  Why,  do  you  know  her,  mother  ? "  asked 
Mary,  in  surprise. 

"  I  have  met  her  frequently,"  replied  Mrs. 
Neland,  "and  am  well  acquainted  with  her 
sisters,  who  are  all  teaching  in  New  York.  You 
will  find  her  very  gentle;  but  with  her,  no 
means  no,  and  yes  means  yes." 

"  Then  she  is  firm,  without  being  severe," 
said  Mr.  Neland. 

"Exactly;  and  since  she  is  really  coming, 
suppose  you  were  to  write  and  invite  her  to  make 
us  a  short  visit  first,  that  the  children  may  not 
feel  she  is  a  stranger  when  they  begin  school." 

"  Oh.  no,  I  would  not  do  that,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Oh,  yes,  mother,  that  would  be  so  nice," 
said  Mary,  both  speaking  at  the  same  moment. 

"How  shall  I  please  you  both,  I  wonder," 
said  Mrs.  Neland,  laughing.  "  We  will  leave  it 
to  papa,  I  think,  to  do  what  he  considers  best. 
Come,  Arthur,  don't  lose  your  appetite,  my  boy, 


SCHOOL  AGAIST.  241 


because  you  are  going  to  school ;  let  me  give 
you  something  to  cat. 

"  I  wonder  if  Fred  and  Will  are  going,"  said 
Arthur,  handing  his  plate. 

"  I  should  hope  not,  for  the  sake  of  the  other 
Sunnybrook  children,"  said  Mrs.  Neland. 

"  They  are  not  going  to  school  in  Sunny 
brook,"  said  Mr.  Neland.  "  I  came  in  the  car 
with  Mr.  Murray,  to-day,  who  told  me  he  intends 
sending  them  to  a  boarding-school  immediately. 
His  wife's  health  is  so  delicate,  and  she  has  so 
little  control  over  them,  that  he  must  send  them 
where  they  will  be  more  strictly  managed." 

"Poor  boys!"  said  Mrs.  Neland,  "they  are 
indeed  most  miserably  governed.  I  was  per- 
fectly shocked  this  afternoon  at  their  disregard 
of  their  sick  mother ;  as  Becky  says,  they  are 
enough  to  kill  her." 

"  Mr.  Murray  tells  me,"  continued  Mr.  Neland, 
"  that  the  carpenter's  son  has  been  with  Fred  a 
great  deal  lately,  and  taught  him  many  wrong 
tilings.  I  shall  speak  with  Mr.  Bond  myself 
about  this  boy,  before  our  school  commences." 
21 


242  SCHOOL  AGAIN. 


"  Yes,  do,  father,"  said  Mary,  earnestly ;  "  we 
don't  want  such  a  boy  in  our  school  to  torment 
Miss  Boss,  and  may-be  make  Arthur  bad,  too, — 
do  we,  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  Mary ;  we  want  all  our  Sunny- 
brook  children  to  be  so  good  that  they  may  be 
an  example  to  all  other  little  people  in  the  world, 
and  I  especially  wish  this  for  Arthur  and  Mary 
Neland.  Don't  you?" 

Mary  smiled  Yes  ;  but  Arthur  sighed  a  little 
as  he  said,  "I  am  sorry  the  summer  is  over." 

Yes,  the  summer,  the  bright,  beautiful  sum- 
mer, was  ended,  and  with  it  our  little  book  must 
also  draw  to  a  close.  "Just  one  more  chapter," 
pleads  a  little  voice  at  our  elbow ;  but  if  we  say 
more,  at  present,  it  must  be  to  start  afresh  with 
a  new  volume,  and  tell  what  Arthur  and  Mary 
did  in  the  winter -time.  Perhaps  we  may  do 
this,  should  God  give  us  health  and  leisure  for 
the  task.  In  the  mean  time,  we  can  only  hope 
that  our  young  readers  may  like  the  present 
book  so  well  as  to  insure  another;  and,  with  many 
kind  wishes,  bid  them  all  GOOD-BYE. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 

NON-RENEWABLE 

JAN  2 


DUE2WKSFROM 


ACCESS 

nterlibrary  Loans 
1 1 630  University 
Box  951 575 
os  Angeles,  CA  9O< 


Research 


DATE  RECEIVED 
ERVICES  bl 

Library 
)95-157S 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


Our  summer  at 

fiimnyhrnnk 


000475479    2 


PZ6 
Mli76o 


